


When Hearts Collide

by soy_em



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Wolf jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Heart in his throat, Jared reaches the back of the crowd, and can finally see the gate clearly.Its empty, nothing at all visible to explain the commotion, and the air leaves Jared’s chest in a whoosh. Just the wind, he thinks, just the storm getting worse.And then an enormous grey wolf, fur so dark it’s almost black, strides through the gate. It’s so tall its head is on a level with Jared’s heart, and he can’t help himself; he takes a step back. The wolf steps forward again, and trembling, Jared holds his ground this time.The wolf shivers, the light around it seeming to vibrate, then stood before Jared is the most beautiful naked man he’s ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When Hearts Collide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863364) by [Bluefire986](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluefire986/pseuds/Bluefire986). 



> Written for the J2 Reversebang 2017.
> 
> Thanks to [Bluefire986](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluefire986/pseuds/Bluefire986) for creating such awesome and inspiring art! Check it out [here](https://bluefire986.livejournal.com/15584.html).
> 
> And thanks as usual to my beta [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/), whose help and advice is invaluable.

 

 

Jared was sparring when he heard the news.

His father was dead.

His sword dropped from hands made weak with shock, as his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground.

His father was dead.

And Jared was the new Duke of Everglen.

Jared had never thought he’d be anyone of importance. He was a second son, with a brother who had been schooled from birth to rule over their family lands and a little sister who would marry for dynasty. Jeff had been far more competent than Jared could ever hope to be, and as the older brother he’d been calmer, more considered, always more responsible. Four years younger, Jared had been babied and indulged. When Jeff had accompanied their father around their lands, Jared had taken extra sword training. If Jeff had gone to meet key allies, Jared had often gone riding with friends, loving to spend time out in the untamed lands near their castle. He’d never been wild, or badly behaved, but he’d never been trained for leadership either.

So when Jeff had fallen from his horse into a flooding stream three years ago, dying of cold before he could make it back to the castle, the Duchy had been thrown into chaos. Jared had been rapidly shipped off to the capital to learn some ‘‘much needed social graces’’ alongside how to rule.

And now, with the news of his father’s death, Jared is the Duke, far sooner than he’d ever expected. His time to learn by watching is over; now it’s time to learn by doing.

The shock and worry about his new responsibilities are enough to numb Jared’s grief initially. He throws himself into preparations for his departure from the capital. Kit wants to help as much as possible, of course but Jared takes care of most of it himself, glad for the distraction.

It takes a day and a half to prepare. Most of it is spent rapidly visiting key allies to say goodbye - it might seem like an unnecessary delay at this point, but Jared knows his father would approve, would think that taking the time to properly and politely say farewell is a valid long-term investment, so Jared thinks it's the least he can do.

Last on his list is, of course, the Peverells. His father’s closest contacts in the city, they’re one of the wealthiest merchant families in the country, and Jared has learnt a lot from Sir Connor in the two years he’s been living with them. (His first year in the capital, with a minor noble family who were distantly related to Everglen, had been much less useful).

They lunch together before he departs - just Sir Connor, Lady Grace and Elena, their daughter. Jared knows that Sir Connor, and in particular Lady Grace, have high hopes that perhaps Jared will choose Elena as his future spouse, despite her lack of noble blood. They’ve been so close these past two years, after all. Unfortunately, what the Peverells don’t know is that Jared and Elena bonded over their mutual admiration for the physique of Johnny, the Peverell’s stable boy, and had continued their friendship in a similar vein throughout the two years they’d lived together.

Their lunch is stilted, both parents expecting Jared to announce firm plans to return to the capital to see Elena. But Jared is unable, and frankly unwilling, to do so. If anything, he suspects that Elena might run away to join him before he has the chance to return to the city. As a result, their farewells are a little icy.

Finally, he and Kit are on the road. As soon as they are out of the city, Jared breathes a sigh of relief; he’s always preferred open spaces and has found the capital frustrating and constricting over the last three years.

But then, with nothing to distract him, the realisation of the changes in his life, the weight of his new responsibilities comes crashing down on him. Gasping for air, he leans forward over his horse, burying his face in Lightning’s mane.

“You ok?” Kit asks, pulling up quickly alongside him. Jared can only frantically shake his head in reply, shoulders shuddering.

“Shit.” Kit slides off his horse and is by Jared’s side immediately. Pulling Jared out of his saddle, Kit pushes Jared’s face into his neck. “Breathe, JT, just breathe,” Kit instructs softly.

Jared’s chest continues to heave as he desperately tries to breathe in, but eventually he calms. They stand, pressed together, at the side of the road for a long time.

A rider pulls up into the main forest clearing as Jensen is skinning a buck he brought down that morning. Jensen stands, wiping his bloody hands on his breeches. They’re already ruined anyway. He looks warily at the horseman as he dismounts. The Otso Pack keeps to itself, and hardly ever seeks out news from the outside world. As a result, outsiders are unusual in Arbolene, and rarely bring good news.

Jensen can soon see that the man is dressed in the Livery of the Duchy of Everglen, and his heart sinks. To his dismay, he can also see some of his packmates through the trees, watching the rider with unconcealed interest; there will be no keeping this visit a secret, or time for him to reflect on any news before he has to present it to the pack.

“I’m looking for Lord Jensen,” the rider states, uncertain. He’s clearly uncomfortable, looking through the trees to the Hall just visible in the next clearing.

“You’ve found him,” Jensen replies. “But I’m no Lord. Just plain Jensen will do.” His rightful title is Alpha, or Elder, but Jensen hates it and is trying to do away with such traditions in his Pack.

If anything, the lack of a title makes the rider even more nervous. “Lord Jensen - Jensen,” he stutters, catching himself. “I bring news from Everglen.”

“I gathered,” Jensen says drily. “But first, who am I talking to?”

The rider looks startled to be asked his name, and Jensen sighs at the reminder of how much more unequal society is outside of Arbolene.

“Thomas,” the man says. “Tom.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tom. Now, what is your news?”

Tom, who can’t be more than 18 summers, stumbles forward with a letter in his hand.

Checking the seal quickly, Jensen slices it open. As he’d suspected, the letter contains news that Gerald, Duke of Everglen, has passed away - peacefully, Jensen is pleased to note. What does surprise him is that the letter is from Jeffrey, Gerald’s bastard half brother, rather than Jared, his heir and the new Duke.

“I take it you know the contents of this letter?” he asks. Tom nods. “Why is this from Jeffrey and not Jared?”

“Lord Jared is in the capital, Lord Jens- Jensen.” Tom stutters, again. “I believe he will be on his way back by now.”

Jensen frowns. He hadn’t know that the heir had gone off to be a city boy. Looking back at the letter, he notes the date he is requested to attend to re-pledge his allegiance to the new Duke. “Will he be back in time?” he queries.

“Yes, My Lord,” Tom confirms.

“Thank you, Tom. Please go through to the Hall where my people will see you fed. You are welcome to stay the night before returning.”

Tom looks terrified at the thought of spending the night with a pack of wolves and Jensen can’t help but grin.

It takes four and a half days of travel for Jared and Kit to reach Everglen, and they are the most frustrating days of Jared’s life, and at the same time a blessed relief. He knows how much there is to do and he can’t do any of it from the road; his Uncle, Jeffrey, will have put a lot of the necessary actions in place but he’s not the Duke, and neither is his sister Megan, and many things will specifically require Jared. But on the other hand, this feels like the last few days of freedom he will ever have, and there’s no one he’d rather spend them with than Kit.

Nominally Jared’s servant, Kit, and Jared have been inseparable since childhood. They’ve learnt to keep up appearances over the years, Kit performing the required duties and behaving respectfully in public, but in private they’re more like brothers.

So Jared takes these last few days as the gift they are, putting aside his grief and worry to the best of his ability so that he can joke with his friend. They race along the road each morning and play little pranks on each other as they set up camp each evening, and laugh as much as possible.

But it has to end eventually, and as the fifth day draws to a close, they see the spires of Everglen Castle gleaming in the distance.

The fortress seems exactly as Jared left it two years ago. The walls and buttressing are still in excellent repair, with new mortaring visible between the brickwork. Beyond that, the castle itself is still the same slightly shabby building Jared remembers; generations of Everglen preferring to put their money and effort into security rather than comfort. The modernisation that could be made to the living quarters is even more apparent to Jared now after two years in the city, and while there are changes he’d definitely like to make (privies in each room had been a revelation) he knows he’ll be following the family tradition of focusing on defence.

He and Kit ride into the courtyard with little fanfare, just two dirty horsemen reaching the end of a long journey. Jared has almost doubled in height since he left, so it’s Kit the guards recognise first.

“Kit!” one of the men at the gate yells jovially, “What are you doing here? You escape His Grace?” The words are friendly, without a hint of malice, and Jared smiles at knowing that he’s still well thought of here.

He grins at Kit. “Kit would never dream of leaving me,” he tells the guardsman. “He loves me too much.”

The poor man nearly falls of his seat. “Your Grace,” he stutters. “I never - I didn’t - you’ve gotten so tall.”

Jared chuckles. “And I don’t think I’ve stopped growing yet. Could you send someone to tell my uncle I’ve arrived?”

The guardsman hops down and disappears, no doubt thrilled to have a reason to make his escape, and his companion laughs along with Jared and Kit.

Dismounting, Jared and Kit make their way to the main stables, where Jared had spent long hours of his childhood. To his delight, Jim is still there.

“Hey old man, can’t believe they still let you work,” Jared says, smirking, and the stablemaster spins around in surprise. Two minutes later, Jared is swept up in his arms, and he hugs back tightly.

“Fucking hell, boy, you’ll break my ribs,” Jim complains. “You got huge.”

Jared grins at him. “Big all over,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Jim punches him in the shoulder.

“Guess I shouldn’t do that any more, Your Grace,” he jokes. Then he quietens. “I’m sorry for your loss, JT.”

Jared feels sudden tears prickle behind his eyes. “Thanks.” They look at each other for a long moment, before Jim turns to Kit.

“And you,” he says. “Ugly as ever.”

“Fuck you, Jim,” Kit responds, hugging him, and they start tending to their horses.

After half an hour, Jared has wasted all the time he can. Leaving Lightning in Jim’s capable hands, he sets off for the main hall. As he expected, Jeffrey is waiting for him, along with most of his father’s most trusted advisors.

“Your Grace,” Jeffrey intones formally as Jared enters. “Welcome home”

“It's good to be back,” Jared replied sincerely.

“I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace.” Kim, his father’s seneschal, looks truly upset, and Jared smiles sadly.

“I wish I returned in better circumstances.”

There is a moment of silence, and then, as expected, Jeffrey jumps in again. “There is much to be done, Your Grace. We should begin immediately.”

Jared knows this is an opportunity to stamp his authority on the moment, and on his father’s advisors. “I will wash first,” he says. “And then, perhaps, you, Kim and I could dine privately.” It’s phrased as a question, but Jared does not intend it as such, and Jeffrey has no choice but to agree.

“I will have dinner served in an hour,” he decrees, jaw tight.

Before even washing, Jared goes in search of his sister. He finds her hiding away in her room at the top of the tallest turret, the chamber she’d imperiously demanded as an eight years old.

He opens the door softly, but before he has a chance to say anything Megan flings herself into his arms, sobbing.

“JT,” she sniffs, and Jared buries his face in her hair. It might be three years since he’s seen her; she’s gotten taller and grown into her beanstalk figure, but she’s still the little sister he’s missed so much.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she says, wiping her teary face on Jared’s dirty jacket and leaving smears across her cheeks. “I miss him, JT.”

“I know, Meggy.” Jared strokes her hair softly and guides her to sit down in her favourite window seat, reflecting how much more Megan is grieving for their father than he is. She was always their father’s favourite, neither weighed down with expectation like Jeff nor surplus to requirements like Jared, and it shows in her sadness. Jared himself is, of course, upset that his father is dead, but he’s more distressed about the sudden responsibility he finds himself with.

“You going to come down to the feast?” he asks, and Megan shakes her head.

“I’ve had more than enough of Uncle Jeffrey, smarmy bastard. I’m taking advantage of this to stay away from him.”

She’s still the same spirited girl that Jared had left behind three years ago, and it’s the only good thing about coming home.

Jared sighs with joy as he contemplates his stew. Food in the capital had been excellent of course, but often too small and fancy for his appetite. There’s nothing like the food of Everglen, and even better, the healthy portions their cook remembers to serve him.

He doesn't get much chance to enjoy it, though. Within seconds, the conversation has turned serious.

“I’ve sent out all the invitations,” Jeffrey proclaims. “We’ve had the burial, of course.”

Jared nods - it's been ten days since his father passed so he’d expected nothing less.

“We’ll have a memorial just after the Swearing.

Jared grimaces. He’s dreading the incredibly traditional Swearing ceremony but knows that it needs to happen. “Has anyone refused?” he asks.

“No, of course not. Although we have yet to hear from the Otso Pack.”

There’s a slight pause. Nominally subject to Everglen, the Otso are very independent and Jared's father had always feared they would rebel.

“I’m sure it's just the distance,” Kim jumps in. “And they see things differently.”

Jeffrey snorts. “See things in a less civilised way.”

Jared has only met the wolves once - when their new leader had come to renew the Pack’s allegiance to his father. He remembers little of the man - he’d been too young at the time to take part in politics - but he does remember the air of difference the leader and his men had carried. Even then, Jared had been desperate to know more. He wonders if it's less that the Otso Pack are uncivilized, but rather that civilisation looks different to them.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he states. Jeffrey gives him a sharp look, perhaps thinking him naive, but Jared is aware of the danger. He’s just never liked borrowing trouble. “And if not, we’ll find out soon enough. Now, have we notified our allies?”

The conversation moves on and Jared forgets about the wolves for the rest of the evening.

It’s late before Jared makes it to bed, eyes burning and muscles aching. Kit is waiting for him in his old room, with the fire lit and fresh bedding. Jared looks around, noting how much smaller the room is than he remembers; and looking at the few possessions he’d left behind, which seem mostly obsolete now.

“Tomorrow, I’ll have to move into my father’s rooms,” he says to Kit, wearily.

“I know. I gave the order for them to be aired and arranged tonight. But I thought… one last night here?” Kit’s brows crease with worry.

“You did the right thing,” Jared reassures him. “One last night here.”

Jared climbs into his old bed and snuggles down. He’s shocked to find that his feet stick out of the end of the bed now, and he curls his legs up to keep warm.

“Night JT,” Kit says, as he heads into the little side room where he’s always slept.

“Night.”

Jared’s cold, and uncomfortably cramped in the small bed. He barely recognises the room, and none of his possessions are here - everything of importance is following him more slowly from the capital.

Despite all that, he’d rather stay in this room forever than move to his father’s much larger, more luxurious quarters. He wishes with all his might that he could just stay Jared, younger son, in his small rooms, but he knows he has no choice but to take up the mantle of Duke.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s several days before Jensen feels comfortable and ready to leave Arbolene. It’s late autumn, the most crucial time of their year, and the Otso are busy preparing for winter. Jensen should be hard at work alongside his packmates, who are out hunting every day, skinning and salting the meat they bring in, while others are busying harvesting their small crops and herbs. The final cohort have been assigned to winter-proofing their shelters, making sure that roofs and walls are wind- and waterproof before the real tests of winter come.

So Jensen is not best pleased to be called away at such a crucial time. He knows he has to go - failure to attend the Swearing of the new Duke without extremely extenuating circumstances would be seen as outright rebellion - and given that he’s not missing any limbs, he doesn’t have any reason not to go.

The Everglens have always been deeply suspicious of the Otso; they don’t understand the way wolves choose to live and have never shown any desire to learn. It infuriated Jensen on his last trip, when many of Gerald’s men had been condescending or outright derogatory about his people. Gerald himself had been polite, but distant in a way he wasn’t with his other bannermen; and his half brother, Jeffrey, had been almost aggressive. Jensen is not looking forward to seeing him again, and holds out little hope that the young heir will behave any better, particularly if he’s been living in the capital.

By the time Jensen has organised everything to his exacting standards, certain that everyone knows their duties to prepare for winter and that there are contingency plans in place in case things go wrong, he’s realises he’s barely left enough time to get to Arbolene before the ceremony. He’d planned to take one of their horses and ride there… but it would leave him at risk of being late.

Shrugging, he decides that the best way to travel would be in his wolf form. It’s much faster than riding, and he can run longer hours each day than he could ride a horse. It will cause a stir when he arrives, he knows; but there’s nothing for it. It’s either that, or missing the Swearing altogether.

And if Jensen is internally pleased at ruffling a few feathers, that’s no ones business but his.

The next few days are a whirlwind of preparations. Jared needs to oversee everything from the menu for the feast, to organising sleeping arrangements. It’s important to place certain lords next to their mistresses, while keeping some men away from those they don’t get along with (Lord Sheppard needs to be as far away from Lord Pellegrino as possible) - a surprisingly complex jigsaw.

Most frustrating are the hours Jared spends stood on a stool with the castle tailor poking and prodding him with pins; all the clothing that Jared had left at Everglen is far too small for him to wear, and his city clothes are neither the fashion of Everglen nor suitable for the climate. He needs a whole new wardrobe and he needs it fast.

“Again?” he complains to Kit, as they head towards the sewing room.

“Again.” Kit confirms. “Its for the cloak.” Jared groans. The ceremonial cloak he will need to wear for the Swearing is heavy and ornate, and steeped in tradition, and it has to be exactly right.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I need you to go and get me cake then.” Jared is never not hungry, and it’s rare that good food doesn’t make him feel better.

Kit snorts. “Yes, Your Grace. Cake it is.”

His vassals start arriving the day before the ceremony. Omundson is first, of course; his land is adjacent to Everglen, and he’s Jeffrey’s peer and close friend. The two of them greet each other cordially, and Omundson spends only the bare minimum of time making small talk with Jared before the two older men go off together to catch up. Jared’s sure that the evening will find them in one of Everglen’s inns, holding court with a bevy of admiring women.

Other lords trickle in over the next couple of days, until it feels like Jared is disturbed every hour with a new arrival. He knows that he has to greet them all personally - it’s been years since he’s been in Everglen, and he doesn’t know them nearly as well as he should. Their first impression of him as an adult, and their new Duke, is vital. But it doesn’t help him concentrate on the multitude of tasks he needs to complete before the big day.

The person Jared is most interested to meet again is Jensen, Alpha of the Otso Pack. He’d raided the library for books on werewolf society, not wanting to make any faux pas, and he’s been reading the most interesting of the books in his very limited spare time. But there’s no sign of Jensen, even as the day of the Swearing draws near, and Jared begins to worry that Jeffrey was right.

Jensen knows they should stop for the night. Its full dark now, the moon giving off enough of a glow for them to see as they speed through tufts of heather on the moors north of Everglen.

Even in his wolf form, his legs are tired and aching, his paws a little bruised. His brain is always a little more foggy, more simplistic, when he’s not human, but knows he’s pushing himself more than he should. Chris is barely keeping up with him, and even though wolf faces are not made to express emotion, Jensen can sense the resentment pouring from his friend in waves.

Last time he had changed he’d noted that they’re nowhere near as close to Everglen as he’d hoped to be. One of the rivers on their route had been close to flooding and the current was far too strong for them to swim; they’d had to make an extensive detour to where the water was shallower and safer. It had cost them more than a day and they’re now at real risk of being late.

He looks back to where Chris is loping along behind him. His friend cocks his head, slowing hopefully, but Jensen jumps forward. Tilting his head back, he howls at the moon above them, and speeds up. They’ll stop for a couple of hours before dawn, he thinks.

Jensen dreads the consequences of missing the ceremony.

The day of the Swearing dawned with thunder and pounding rain. Not the kind of omen Jared was looking for, if he was honest with himself.

Sitting up in his father’s enormous four poster bed, he looks around his new quarters. They’re bare, Jared’s few possessions taking up little of the available space; and Jared knows he will need to put his own stamp on them soon or constantly feel like he’s intruding on his father’s privacy. He already feels like a fraud as it is.

Forcing himself out of bed, he heads over to the wash basin that Kit had prepared for him and gives himself a good scrub down. He’s going to be around a lot of people today, all of whom will be judging him - the last thing he needs is to worry that he smells.

Staring at himself in the small mirror above the bowl, he debates shaving. He has little need, his cheeks still mostly soft, but there is a small scattering of fuzz on his upper lip and patchy across his cheeks. Kit comes in with his breakfast as he’s patting at his face.

“What do you think?” Jared asks. “Should I shave, or do you think it makes me look a bit older?”

In the capital, the answer would be obvious; beards are seen as uncivilised, an advertisement that you don’t take grooming seriously. But in Everglen, men are more free with their choices and either is acceptable.

Kit gets right up in his face, so close that Jared feels his eyes cross.

“Definitely don’t shave,” he advises, unsmiling. “The fuzz makes you look at least fourteen summers.”

It takes Jared a beat to realise his friend is mocking him. “Oh fuck you,” he says, shoving Kit, and his friend cackles.

“Shave, JT. You’re more comfortable that way and that’s definitely not a beard.”

Jared throws the washcloth at him.

Jared leaves the rest of the preparations that morning to Jeffrey. The ceremony will take place at noon; tradition states that the brightness of midday sun makes it impossible for enemies to hide their dark intentions. Sticking his head out of the window, and then rapidly pulling it back inside and shaking the water out of his hair, Jared thinks that if he’s got enemies, he’s got no chance of identifying them today.

Jeffrey comes to see him after breakfast, distressed from the fuss of moving the ceremony from the small glade in the woods where it is traditionally held, even in light rain; into the main hall, where there is less risk of their guests drowning.

“It’s been five generations since we held the Swearing indoors,” he tells Jared gloomily. “That Duke was poisoned.”

Kit’s snort is barely covered up by coughing, and Jared glares at him.

Looking at his uncle, he wonders why Jeffrey is finding this so difficult. His uncle is not usually one to stress easily; Jeffrey had been his father’s closest advisor since they were young and had weathered many storms, both literal and metaphorical, during that time. But now, the older man is pacing across Jared’s chambers, and Jared would swear that there’s a little more silver in his beard than there had been a few days ago.

Jared finds it hard to believe that Jeffrey is simply concerned for Jared; they’re not close, and had clashed continuously when Jared was younger. His father had often delegated discipline to Jeffrey, who had administered it with none of the love that Jared had craved. Jared still smarts sometimes from the last time Jeffrey had administered physical punishment.

“It’ll be fine, uncle. It’s just a tradition. The important part is that the Lords accept me as Duke.”

“Which they’re more likely to do in the right setting.”

“Rubbish,” Jared says, irritated. “If they need to be under a bunch of trees to be loyal to me, then they’re not very loyal in the first place. Which is something I’d rather find out now.”

Jeffrey has no answer to that, so he moves on to what is apparently his next worry.

“The wolves aren’t here yet.”

Jared is well aware of that, but he can’t afford to let himself worry just yet.

“I’m sure they will be. Everyone else has arrived?”

“Yes, Your Grace. The Cohens were the last.”

“Good. Now, I should start preparing.” Jared has absolutely no need to start getting dressed this early, but his uncle’s nerves are starting to affect him.

“Of course.” There’s a brief moment of silence when Jared and Jeffrey stare at each other. Despite their rocky history, Jared is expecting some words of encouragement on this, the most important day of his life so far. It is in Jeffrey’s interest that the day goes well, after all. But after a couple of minutes of awkward quiet, Jeffrey turns to leave without saying anything further.

As soon as he’s out of the room, Kit growls. “He’s such a dick.” If Jared and Jeffrey had found it difficult to get along in the past, it pales in comparison to the way Jeffrey had treated Kit, usually blaming him for Jared’s misdemeanours.

“He’s a dick we’re stuck with,” Jared says glumly. “So we have to make the best of it.”

Kit rolls his eyes.

It’s clear that the torrential rain is not going to let up before noon, so Jared dons his ceremonial robe in his room, cursing at the weight of it, and makes his way quietly to the Great Hall. His palms are sweating and his heart’s pounding, but he thinks he is managing to keep his face calm and serene. At the very least, Kit isn’t hissing at him to calm down, so it can’t be showing that badly.

Walking into the Hall is one of the hardest moments of Jared’s life. The room is crowded, humid with the heat of too many bodies, and pungent with the smell of sweat and ale despite the herbs Jeffrey has burning in the sconces. The crowd draws back as Jared enters, giving him space to walk through the middle, and he proceeds into the room with all the limited grace he can muster. Really, he’s just thankful he hasn’t yet tripped over his own feet.

Once he’s in the middle of the room, the crowd forms a circle around him, as they would if they were in the glen. There is no dais for them to approach, or grand chair (even in his mind, Jared can’t bring himself to say throne) - just their Duke in their midst. Jared’s nerves settle slightly when he sees Megan next to Lord Benedict; she smiles at him and the knot in his stomach eases ever so slightly.

The Swearing is designed to show that the Duke is first among peers, that he is elected by his vassals to represent them, and is accountable to them. But apart from the actual format of the ceremony, that concept was lost long ago, the Dukedom becoming entirely hereditary and rebellion, and sometimes even constructive criticism, entirely unthinkable. Jared would like to restore this idea, make himself accountable not just to his Lords but to his people - but that’s something for after the traditions of the day.

Once he is surrounded, Jared casts a surreptitious eye around the crowd, but there is no sign of Lord Jensen. His stomach drops; perhaps Jeffrey had been right and the Otso are planning to refuse to pledge to him. The worry is soon pushed out of his mind as the Swearing begins.

The Swearing is conducted by Julian, an old, decimated little man so respected he needs no title. He stands in front of Jared, dwarfed in Jared’s shadow and not even the tiniest bit cowed by it. “Lord Jared of Everglen,” he begins, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard by all. “Your Lords are gathered here today to elect you their Duke, to place their faith in you to lead them, to guide them and to protect them. Are you willing to take on this responsibility?”

_No_ , Jared thinks. “Yes, I am ready,” he says, formally.

“Why should your Lords give you this trust?”

This is the bit Jared has been dreading. He shifts uneasily under the heavy cloak, trying to clear his throat unobtrusively.

Jeff had been preparing for this day his whole life. He’d run his speech past Jared more times than Jared could count, asking for his little brother’s opinion on his phrasing. Jared has only had the last three years to prepare this - it doesn’t feel like anywhere near enough time.

“My Lords should place their trust in me because…” The ceremonial wording clogs on Jared’s tongue. “I will dedicate my life to leading them well. I will work with them to make our land prosperous, to help them and their people to thrive. I will keep us safe, and well, and fed.” Jared pauses for breath. So far so good, the words he had written and memorised coming out in the right order, and even with a degree of certainty that Jared absolutely does not feel.

“I will seek their advice when needed, and listen to their concerns. I will make changes, so that we are all happier.” This part is a little more controversial. Several of the men clustered around Jared, not least his uncle, are well-known to be resistant to any change. But Jared consoles himself that they are probably not even listening to the words he’s speaking; the ceremonial speech is much more about how Jared presents himself, and whether he’s able to provide a suitably impressive and authoritative persona to lead. He thinks he’s doing ok.

“I will make every decision thinking of our children, our future. I will strive to ensure that the Everglen I hand over to my heir is even stronger, more respected, more prosperous than the Everglen of today. Should you swear to me, my Lords, your children will be the better for it.”

It's a risk, Jared knows, highlighting the fact that he has no children. But Megan stands opposite, smiling, and Jared knows that he has an heir who is more than capable of ruling Everglen after him.

He waits with baited breath for the reaction to the end of his speech. There’s a moment of silence, before Lord Speight starts to clap, and the rest join in. Jared’s knees almost buckle with relief; the first, hellish, part of the Swearing is over.

The next part will be interminable, he knows, and mortifying. He must stand in his robe, while each of his Lords pledges themselves to him individually, giving a reason for their ‘choice’ of Jared as Duke. None of them knows him well, and Jared is bracing himself for a long list of weak, unfelt compliments; all of which will be recorded for posterity by Julian.

Sure enough, his uncle is the first to step forwards.

“I Swear to Duke Jared because I have known him all his life. He has many faults, but I know he will do his best to lead us, to make sure that we are safe and strong.”

Jared is immensely thankful that Kit is not in the room, because he’s sure that his friend wouldn’t be able to hold in his amusement at Jeffrey’s utterly patronising statement.

Omundson follows in his friend’s wake, his sentiments similarly lukewarm; and Jared forces himself to remain impassive. It’s not until Lord Speight steps up that he hears something with any level of sincerity to it.

“I too have known Duke Jared since he was a child,” Lord Speight begins. “And I have seen him grow into a fine young man who’s more than capable of leading us. He is clever, but also willing to listen, and I truly believe he wants the best for his people. I am happy to Swear to him.”

Jared can’t help but grin at the man, grateful for his kind words, and then Lord Cohen steps up.

The Swearing continues. Some of his Lords are as brief as Jeffrey had been; others, like Lord Sheppard, love the sound of their own voice and ramble on for far longer than they need to. The cloak weighs heavy on Jared’s shoulders, reminding him that this is his life now; and his mind works overtime, assessing each statement for intent. Despite the oppressive atmosphere of the Hall, Jared knows he wouldn’t have felt any better with the Swearing outside.

Megan is last, and Jared knows that his clever little sister intended this for maximum effect. “I Swear to Duke Jared, my big brother, because of his willingness to protect me as a child. I know, firsthand, his kindness of heart and that he will do all in his power to protect those who are weaker than him, or those in need. Those are the qualities I look for in a Duke.”

There’s warm applause at this, although Jared can’t help but notice scorn on Lord Sheppard’s face.

Finally, it’s over. The circle breaks up, Lords milling around and greeting old friends, and some making a beeline for Jared, no doubt already with business for him settle, or to ask for favours. He can’t remove the cloak yet, though; it is upon him now to lead the group outside, and then back in through the main doors of the castle, ceremonially welcoming all his Lords under his roof in perpetuity. Jeffrey had fretted and worried, but there was no alternative to this part of the day, and so everyone is about to get very wet.

Jared leads the group out of the hall, not waiting to see if they follow. They know the process as well as he does, and he wants to get it over and done with as soon as possible. At least during the next part there’s food.

They exit via a side door, and Jared takes a deep breath before striding out into the pouring rain. The cloak becomes heavier immediately, and Jared hears a wide variety of curse words behind him as he’s followed out.

He strides towards the front of the castle as fast as he can. The yard in front of the great doors looks more lake than land, water seeping over Jared’s feet as he pauses on the first step.

“My Lords,” he begins, as they mill about below him, looking utterly miserable. “It is my pleasure--”

There’s a loud bang towards the back of the group. Jared stops mid-sentence, as the Lords toward the back of the crowd push forwards suddenly. Jared sees castle’s inner gate fly open, another bang reverberating around the yard, and yet more men push forwards, eager to get away from whatever has come through. Jared knows he has to act decisively; to deal with this intruder to Everglen’s most important event.

He steps down and pushes his way through the crowd, which parts around him, his Lords more than willing to let him take the lead. Heart in his throat, Jared reaches the back of the crowd, and can finally see the gate clearly.

Its empty, nothing at all visible to explain the commotion, and the air leaves Jared’s chest in a whoosh. Just the wind, he thinks, just the storm getting worse.

And then an enormous grey wolf, fur so dark it’s almost black, strides through the gate. It’s so tall its head is on a level with Jared’s heart, and he can’t help himself; he takes a step back. The wolf steps forward again, and trembling, Jared holds his ground this time.

The wolf shivers, the light around it seeming to vibrate, then stood before Jared is the most beautiful naked man he’s ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Jensen changes back into his human form after he crosses the final river before Everglen. Rain pounds down on him, dripping through his saturated hair and running in rivulets across his body. Looking up at the sky, he tries to tell the time, but it’s a lost cause, with lowering grey clouds obscuring any sign of the sun. The best he can tell is that it’s still daylight, the sky not yet darkening towards evening.

Chris emerges from the water behind him, still in wolf form. He cocks his head at Jensen, the message clear. He’s not going to waste energy changing back unless they’re going to rest. And they have no time to rest.

“I have no idea what time it is,” Jensen says, frustrated, and Chris just looks at him. “We’re going to be late.” Chris huffs.

The storm has delayed them even further, making it more difficult to run across the muddy land. They’re both exhausted and covered in muck, in no state to meet their future Duke, and yet they have no choice.

Growling under his breath, Jensen changes back. He wiggles until he’s got the pack they use to carry their clothes settled back on his shoulders, and then, with a look back at Chris, he bounds forwards.

Within a couple of hours, the towers of Everglen become visible even through the gloom. Limping with tiredness, the sight gives Jensen the boost he needs to carry on running. He knows he should stop to change and put his clothes on, but he’s worried that if he does, he might never start moving again. And he’s known Chris long enough to know that his friend will flat out refuse; he’s never had much time for Jensen’s authority, especially not when they’re alone. And besides, approaching the castle on their human feet will take even longer.

With that decided, Jensen continues to run towards the castle. The likelihood of anyone being outside on a day like today is low, he thinks. And if anyone is, they’ll just have to deal with seeing a naked man for the few seconds it will take him to put his tunic on.

The castle is quiet as they approach, and Jensen reflects that the guards must be taking shelter from the weather. After all, no one in their right mind would travel in this weather. He’s still surprised though when he’s able to lope up to the gates without challenge, and an uncomfortable prickling sensation down his back convinces him to retain his wolf form just a little longer, in case of trouble.

Chris behind him, he uses his snout to force the gate open, and it hits the wall with a clang. He finds himself in the narrow gap between the two walls of the castle, and the rain drowns out any sound coming from within the inner wall.

He’s now even more alarmed by the lack of guards. With a glance back at Chris, he approaches the inner gate, and forces it open.

The courtyard beyond is crowded with men dressed in dripping finery. At the front of the group is a man younger by far than the majority of those around him, but towering over them; his slender form drowned in a heavy, ornate cloak. He looks terrified, but holds his ground as Jensen steps forward, and it takes a minute for realisation to pierce through Jensen’s fuzzy, exhausted wolf-brain: this must be the new Duke.

Alarm follows the realisation. Humans have never dealt well with seeing their wolf forms, inevitably viewing them as a threat; so this is the worst possible way to meet his new Lord. Panicked, Jensen changes back, not stopping to think that his clothes are in the pack that thuds to the floor, landing in a puddle with a splat.

The boy’s eyes widen enormously as he finds himself suddenly eye-level with Jensen, and his gaze sweeps down Jensen’s naked form in a way that Jensen can only describe as disdainful. Stung, Jensen stands taller. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of; he and Chris have exhausted themselves in their attempt to get here on time, and while he knows it’s different here, nudity is nothing special in Arbolene.

“Lord Jared?” he asks, formally.

“Duke Jared,” the boys returns, and Jensen prickles. Of course, if he has missed the Swearing, the boy is already Duke.

“Duke Jared,” he corrects himself, teeth gritted at his mistake. “I am here to Swear myself, and the Otso Pack, to you as Duke of Everglen.”

Duke Jared doesn’t look impressed, if anything he looks confused. Surely the boy knows who he is, Jensen thinks.

The young Duke blinks rainwater out of changeable eyes, clearly trying not to look at Jensen. City-boy, Jensen thinks. Prude.

“Perhaps some clothes?” he asks Jensen faintly, and Jensen can barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Does the boy want his pledge or not? But it’s not Jensen’s place to question his new Duke.

“Very well,” he says, bending to pick up his pack.

The boy flushes. “Please join me in Great Hall shortly, where you can Swear in more comfort.” Without waiting for Jensen’s response, he turns back to his men, and makes his way towards the steps.

“Please, My Lords. Let us finish the Swearing.” He waits until the attention of the other men is fixed on him, rather than Jensen, who takes the opportunity to shake his tunic out of his pack and slip it on.

“It is my pleasure, my Lords, to welcome you to Everglen as your new Duke. Please enter Everglen Castle, where you will always find succour and safety under my rule.”

The doors open behind the Duke, and he turns to walk inside, followed in a rush by those Lords most interested in getting into the warm, dry hall. A couple turn to look at Jensen; Jeffrey is one of them, and he gives Jensen a look of such utter loathing that Jensen feels a shiver trickle down his spine.

As he leads the Lords back into the warmth, Jared’s mind is still spinning. He’s just seen the most attractive man he’s ever come across in his life, seen him in full, glorious detail; and he’s pretty sure he made an idiot out of himself.

How was he supposed to act, though? he asks himself frantically. He had been poised to meet a threat, given the sound coming from outside the gate and the possibility of someone interrupting the Swearing. He hadn’t even thought of Lord Jensen; he’d resigned himself to the fact that the Otso were not going to attend. So to be greeted firstly with a giant, beautiful wolf and then with a naked, equally beautiful man, had not been part of his thought process. He sighs, clenching his fists tightly under the cloak. He will have to find a way to salvage the situation.

The other consequence of Lord Jensen’s late arrival is that it means that Jared will have to wear the damn cloak for even longer. Damp and soggy, it’s clinging to him unpleasantly and starting to smell. He can see the Lords behind him shrugging out of the top layer of their finery, and laying jackets and jerkins on chairs to dry out in the heat of the fire, and he wishes he could do the same.

Once he is at the high table at the end of the Hall, he stops. Kit approaches him, finally allowed to be present, and Jared feels a rush of relief.

“Is everything ready for the feast?” he asks his friend.

“Of course. And I ordered mulled wine and cider, figured everyone would need warming.”

“Thank you,” Jared smiles, grateful for his friend’s never-ending competence.

His Lords start to find their names at the long tables in the Hall (another headache over the past few days: who to sit where to best avoid drunken violence without offending anyone). Their partners will join them shortly; but for now, it is just his bannermen until Lord Jensen appears to finish the ceremony.

That doesn’t take long. Half of the Lords are still searching for their seats when Lord Jensen stalks into the hall, followed by a short man with long wild hair. They’re both wearing what could best be described as leather skirts, falling halfway down their calves and securely belted around their waists; their chests are bare and Jared once again finds himself staring at Jensen, admiring the muscles of his chest. Why did no-one warn him about the nudity? he wonders. None of the books he’d read had mentioned this. And surely last time Lord Jensen had worn more clothes? He’s certain he would have remembered this.

He manages to collect himself as Lord Jensen approaches the high table. “Julian?” he asks, looking around for their master of ceremonies.

Julian pops out from behind him. “Lord Jensen,” he confirms. “You are late.”

Jensen flushes, and Jared notices freckles dotted across his cheeks.

“Yes. The rivers were flooded and the journey took longer than expected.”

“Hmm.” Julian does not seem appeased. He’s a wonderful, warm man but a stickler for detail. “Well. You will need to Swear now, of course. Are you ready?”

There are butterflies in Jared’s stomach as he wonders what Lord Jensen is going to say about him. Its ridiculous; they’ve only just met and it would be impossible for Jensen to say anything accurate other than that Jared has an unfortunate habit of staring gormlessly at him. But Jared still finds himself on tenterhooks.

“I Swear to Duke Jared,” Jensen begins, strong voice carrying around the Hall and prompting silence, “because I believe him to be a good man, who will foster greater friendship between Everglen and the Otso. Duke Jared will help to bring us closer, to the benefit of both our people.”

There’s a soft snort nearby, and Jared can see Jeffrey roll his eyes. Annoyance flashes through him.

“Thank you, Lord Jensen. I will strive to live up to your expectations so that both Everglen and the Otso are made more prosperous.”

Time slows, for a moment, as they look at each other, both on the same page. Both want the best for their people, that much is clear, and for a moment, understanding crackles between them.

“Thank you, Lord Jensen,” Julian intones, breaking the quiet. “The Swearing is complete. Let us celebrate.”

The room immediately bursts into noise, but not before Jared clearly hears Jeffrey say loudly to Omundson, “Greater friendship between us and the mutts? Over my dead body.”

He pales, shock slamming through him at Jeffrey’s hateful comment. He turns to his uncle to chastise him, but Jeffrey and Omundson have moved towards the fireplace; and when he turns back, Lord Jensen is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

He’d honestly thought, for a moment, that the boy might have been different; that there might have been a chance for greater friendship between their people. He’d been impressed with the kid’s poise, the way he was holding himself together in the wake of losing his father and becoming Duke so young. But then he’d heard Jeffrey demeaning his people and the new Duke had failed to reprimand him, and Jensen had realised that this new Duke was the same as all the rest.

He’s shaking with fury as he walks away, both at the Everglens and at himself, for daring to believe. He knows he’s being rude and that eventually he’ll have to go back to the feast, but first he needs to find himself some place where he can recover and get a handle on his temper.

Chris follows him from the hall, nonplussed as to why Jensen is suddenly so angry when it had appeared everything was going well, but he’s a good friend and he doesn’t question Jensen. Trying to remember the layout of the castle, Jensen stomps down a hallway, desperate to find somewhere quiet but reluctant to go back into the driving rain to do so.

He quickly gets caught up in the parade of partners making their way towards the Great Hall to join their spouses at the feast; the majority are women, and he suffers their ogling of his bare chest with little grace. Thankfully he’s soon in a quieter corridor, but he’s irritated when he hears the patter of feet behind him.

“Lord Jensen!” There’s a young man running down the hallway, trying to catch him. He’s dressed in plain, serviceable clothing, and Jensen assumes he is a servant.

“Yes?” he asks sharpy.

“Thank god I’ve caught you.” The young man pants for a second, trying to get his breath back. “Duke Jared sent me to find you and show you to your rooms. He wanted to make sure that you had everything you need, as you arrived so unexpectedly and in such bad weather.”

Jensen is still angry, and all he can hear is a rebuke for not following protocol.

“We have everything we need, thank you,” he answers curtly. “If you give us directions I’m sure we can make our own way.”

The young man looks like he is about to object when Chris interrupts.

“Actually, Jen, I could do with a towel and some warmth.” There’s warning heavy in Chris’ voice, telling him not to be so rude.

“Yes, I’ll take you to your rooms and make sure the fires are lit.” The boy looks grateful for Chris’ intervention. “I’m Kit. Duke Jared’s personal servant,” he explains. “He wanted me to make sure that you feel at home.”

The boy - Kit - seems to be trying to convey some kind of message with his wide blue eyes, but Jensen is too tired and irritable to bother.

“Fine,” he snaps. “Take us.”

Kit leads them through a small doorway to one side of the passage. “Kit?” Chris asks. “Short for Christopher?”

“Yes,” Kit nods. “My father was Christopher, though, so I was given a nickname and it stuck.”

“I’m Chris, short for Christian, and same,” Chris returns.

“Are you Jensen’s servant?” Kit queries, and Chris laughs.

“Hell no. More like his wiser, more intelligent, more handsome right hand man.”

Despite his bad mood, Jensen can’t help but smile.

“I know exactly how that feels,” Kit says, winking; and Chris’ loud, unfettered laughter fills the hallway.

Jensen is surprised to find that they’ve been assigned nice rooms. He’d expected to find them stuck in a broom closet at the back of the castle, perhaps next to the privies - particularly after Jeffrey’s comments.

“This is it,” Kit confirms. “There’s a dressing room with a second bed, if you need it…” He tails off, looking uncertainly between them, and Jensen knows he thinks they’re together.

“Excellent,” Chris says, immediately dispelling that notion by striding towards it.

Jensen’s also pleased to find that the fires are lit and that there is fresh water waiting for them; they are both covered in mud from the road and he needs to wash before he returns to the feast.

Kit is hovering in the doorway. “I’ll come back for you in a few minutes.” He pauses awkwardly.

“Just. I just wanted to say, Jared isn’t his uncle.”

Jensen stares at him, and realising that he’s not going to get a response, Kit leaves.

As soon as he’s gone, Chris pops back out of the dressing room.

“What the hell is going on, Jen?”

The feast is just as dull as Jared expected. He’s never liked small talk, and most of the guests are so much older than him that they have little in common. On his left, Jeffrey and Omundson are deep in conversation, leaving Jared to talk to Lady Ellen, on his right. He likes and respects Lady Ellen, who rules her lands with an iron grip; but discussing horse lineages has just never been interesting to him. Pasting on a smile, he fakes interest in which stallions will be used this year, and wonders where Lord Jensen is.

He’s desperate to make amends, to make sure that Lord Jensen knows that he doesn’t share the same backwards views as his uncle. But he can only do that if Lord Jensen is here, and there’s currently no sign of him. Raising his glass, he takes a deep drink of his wine and settles in to wait.

It’s a long time before Jensen comes back to the hall, and Jared has heard more than enough about horses by that time, as well as about Lady Ellen’s hunting dogs. He loves dogs, he really does, but he has no interest in their pedigree. All dogs are equal in his eyes.

He’s aware of Jensen as soon as the other man steps through the door, because Lord Jensen has not changed clothing. Still wearing the same leather skirt he’d put on earlier, he’s attracting the eye of every woman in the room (except Lady Felicia, Jared notes) and not a few of the men. His companion (friend? Lover? Jared wonders) steps in behind him, wearing the same simple style, and they take their seats, annoyingly at the table furthest from Jared.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Lady Ellen says next to him, clearly noting Jared’s gaze.

“I would like to get to know him better,” Jared says carefully. “We know so little of the Otso; I would like to learn.” There’s all kinds of things Jared would like to learn about Lord Jensen, but Lady Ellen doesn’t need to know that.

“I would definitely like to get to know him better,” Lady Ellen says, leering just a little. Clearly they are on the same page, even if she’s unaware of that. “But I think I’d have to fight off half the room.”

Looking at Jared’s pained face, she chuckles. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Your Grace? It’s just hard to ignore such a fine looking man among us.”

“Wolf,” Jared mutters, still fascinated by the potential differences between Everglen and Arbolene.

Lady Ellen looks at him with poorly concealed irritation. “The Otso are no less valid than us, Your Grace. Their heritage does not make them to be pitied or hated.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jared stuttered, but she’s already turned to Lord Speight, sitting on her other side, who has been entertaining Megan all evening. Jared swears under his breath, but at the same time he’s both impressed that Lady Ellen had the temerity to reprimand her new Duke, and pleased that she’s not as bigoted as his uncle.

Lady Ellen’s annoyance leaves him with nothing better to do than to stare at Lord Jensen, so, draining his glass, Jared allows himself to indulge.

Lord Jensen really is a fine looking man, as Lady Ellen had said. He’s a mixture of beauty and power that Jared finds enthralling, and for a moment, he viciously misses Elena, who would have loved nothing more than to sit with him and detail Jensen’s many graces. But since she’s in the capital, Jared has to do it alone; he focuses on the breadth of Lord Jensen’s shoulders and the power of his chest, and wonders if his muscle mass comes from being a wolf or if it’s all Jensen. In contrast, his face is almost delicately pretty; clear green eyes and a straight, freckled nose leading to the plushest lips Jared has ever seen on a man. Jared sighs, and gestures for more wine. Lord Jensen is perfect.

The feast drags on, and Jared still finds no opportunity to talk to Lord Jensen.

Jensen wonders how people outside of the forest live like this. The Great Hall is crowded and hot, and every time he moves he brushes against someone. He feels claustrophobic and longs for the opportunity to slip outside and see the stars, but he knows it would be taken as an insult. Unless, of course, he were to do so with one of the many women trying to catch his eye; that would be considered perfectly acceptable. He’s already seen a number of men sneak out with women he is sure are not their wives. Unsurprisingly, Chris had been one of them - it never takes him long to make new friends.

The conversation is so dull. Jensen is stuck next to two of Jared’s minor lords, talking across him about production at a local ceramics workshop, and how prices from the capital might interfere with their trade. It’s so mind-numbingly boring that Jensen, exhausted after his long journey, is struggling to keep his eyes open; but he feels obliged to try and contribute to the topic even though it’s clear that both men would prefer him to be elsewhere.

Standing up, he looks for somewhere else to sit, and sees the young Duke’s eyes on him. Growling internally, he inclines his head with the bare minimum of politeness and turns away, finding a space at another table.

This conversation is mildly better, and Jensen finds the time passing a little faster. He’s starting to hallucinate about the big bed in his room. As he looks around, he notices that the Hall is emptying out, many of the guests returning to their rooms, some being helped out by friends after partaking of too much hospitality. Jensen’s new acquaintances depart soon after and he looks around, wondering if he too can make his escape.

He finds the Duke’s eyes still on him from where he’s sat at the high table. Duke Jared doesn’t appear to be talking to either of his companions; his uncle is deep in conversation with a dapper, bearded man his own age, and the handsome, elegant woman next to Jared is laughing uproariously at a small man on her other side. Jensen feels an unexpected pang of sympathy for Jared, who has by all accounts been away from Everglen for several years and probably has few friends here. Then he reminds himself of what had happened earlier and the feeling evaporates.

He’s about to leave when he hears his name.

“Lord Jensen!” It’s Duke Jared, walking rapidly towards him. Jensen sighs.

“Your Grace,” he replies, formal. The Duke beams at him. His face is flushed and his hair a little wild, and Jensen realises that the young man is drunk. He smirks.

Jared clearly takes it for a real smile. “Lord Jensen,” he says again, stumbling ever so slightly over his words. “I just wanted to say…” he pauses, apparently unsure of exactly what he wanted to say. “I wanted to tell you. Did Kit tell you?”

It takes Jensen a moment to process this.

“Did Kit tell me what, Your Grace?”

“I told him to tell you.”

Jensen is too tired for this - Duke or not, Jared is not making much sense.

“It’s just,” Lord Jared continues. “I want to know more about you. And you’re just, so...you’re beautiful, and I’ve been staring at you all night, and you’re a wolf, and you’re beautiful. A beautiful wolf.” Jared stares at him earnestly, eyes roving across Jensen’s face before dropping down to his chest, and it suddenly dawns on Jensen what’s happening here.

Lord Jared is propositioning him.

He’s not offended by being asked by a man; the Otso believe that love is love. But he is offended by being propositioned by a man who, just hours earlier, had tolerated one of his closest blood relatives being astonishingly rude not just about Jensen himself, but about his entire people. Judging by the way Jared keeps repeating ‘wolf’, he too thinks of Jensen as something that’s not human, as something lesser. Jensen’s hands clench by his sides and his breathing speeds up.

“Your Grace,” he says coldly. “Thank you for this evening. I have had a long journey and I must sleep.”

“No, Lord Jensen,” Jared starts. “Stay. Here. With me.”

Not only is Jared bigoted, Jensen thinks angrily, but he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I will retire.”

Jared’s face falls, and for a moment he looks even younger than he actually is. “Ok,” he says, eyes reminding Jensen of his favourite pup, “Maybe tomorrow?”

“I doubt I will have time, Your Grace.” Jensen doesn’t know how he can be clearer without refusing outright, but this time seems to have worked.

“Oh,” is all Jared says, face falling.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” Jensen says firmly, and walks away, still fuming. As he leaves the Great Hall, he sees Kit hovering at the back of the room. Beckoning him sharply, he waits until the young man reaches him. However angry he is at Jared, the young man is likely to do something stupid if he remains in the Great Hall in the state he’s in, and destabilizing Everglen is not in the interests of the Otso.

“Your Lord is drunk,” he says, voice low. “You would do well to remove him.”

Kit’s blue eyes widen. “Thank you, Lord Jensen,” he replies and quickly moves towards Jared.

Shaking his head, Jensen makes his way back to his room. The sooner he can get back to Arbolene, the better.


	5. Chapter 5

Tiny hammers are slamming into Jared’s skull, and all the moisture has disappeared from his tongue. Opening and closing his mouth with an audible click, Jared rolls over in his bed _(his father’s bed)_ and groans as his stomach sloshes about.

BANG

Something slams down across the room.

BANG

Something crashes onto his bedside table.

“ARRGH.” Jared screams as his bedding disappears.

“Morning, Your Grace,” says Kit, face appearing obnoxiously close to Jared’s, complete with smarmy grin.

“FLGSgdf,” Jared says articulately, utterly flummoxed by this sequence of events.

“Ah, I see we’re just as coherent as we were last night,” Kit says, voice dripping with condescension, and Jared’s not too far gone to give him the finger.

“What the _fuck_ , Kit?” he asks, as soon as he can.

Kit smirks. “I thought that after last night, you might need some help waking up.”

Jared sorts through the fluff in his brain. “Last night…?” he asks slowly.

“Jensen is so beautiful, Jensen is so handsome, Jensen is amazing, Jensen is cross with me, why is Jensen cross with me? Do you think Jensen will ever like me? I want to be friends with Jensen. Jensen is so pretty,” Kit rattles off.

Jared stares at him, eyes wide, unable to process this unpleasant stream of words.

“You like Jensen?” he asks slowly. “But you like girls, Kit.”

His friend groans dramatically, and flops down on the bed. He bangs his head against the mattress a few times for good measure.

“For fucks sake, JT. That was you. As I practically carried you to bed.”

Icy dread settles in Jared’s roiling stomach.

“Me? What did I do? Oh hell, what did I do?”

“Let me fill you in,” Kit says, gleefully.

Jensen paces his room until Chris returns late that morning, looking distinctly the worse for wear.

“Good night?” he asks, amused despite himself.

“Brilliant night,” Chris returns. “But sleep now.”

“No,” Jensen says, stopping Chris on his way towards the dressing room. “We’re heading home today.”

Chris turns to look at him, eyes narrowed and brows drawn into that shape that physically scares Jensen.

“The hell we are.” Chris says, flatly.

“We’re heading back to Arbolene today,” Jensen insists, trying to infuse his voice with the authority of the Pack Alpha.

Unfortunately, that voice has absolutely no effect on Chris, and never has.

“Jensen,” Chris starts, voice equally emphatic. “We ran for days to get here, non-stop. In pouring rain. We then sat in a ridiculous, exhausting feast, and then I met one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen in a long time and we fucked all night. We haven’t stopped in four days.” Chris is clearly winding up to something, and Jensen finds himself trapped in his friend’s eyes. “My paws hurt, my legs hurt and frankly, my dick hurts. Unless you’ve murdered the new Duke and we need to flee, I am not leaving until I’ve had at least two solid nights of good sleep.”

Chris doesn’t wait for Jensen to agree, just stomps into the dressing room and slams the door. Jensen has known Chris long enough to be well aware that he won’t budge, and he’s certainly not going to leave his friend in Everglen alone. He goes to unpack, wondering how easy it will be to avoid Duke Jared for the next two days.

Not easy at all, Jensen finds. Some of the lords who live furthest away are packing up and leaving, but the majority are staying on in Everglen to take advantage of Duke Jared’s hospitality for a few more days, and Jensen finds that he’s expected to be social.

Trying to walk out of the castle to find the woods and some blessed space, Jensen is accosted by the elegant lady he’d seen the night before.

“Lord Jensen,” she begins, hand on his arm. “I am Lady Ellen, of Penruth. We are fairly close neighbours and I knew Alpha Sam well. Come, I would like the chance to get to know you better.”

Jensen sighs. Penruth is indeed one of the closer provinces to Arbolene, and he can remember Sam talking about Lady Ellen as a fair ruler and good friend to the Otso. He looks longingly at the trees for a moment, before offering his arm.

“Of course, Lady Ellen. Shall we find somewhere warmer and dryer?”

The sun is setting before Jensen sees Duke Jared, who looks pale apart from the dark circles under his eyes.

“Lord Jensen,” he says quietly, approaching where Jensen is sat in front of the fire. Jensen looks pointedly at the book in his lap, but he’s unable to outright ignore his Duke.

“May I?” Jared asks, indicating the seat opposite Jensen, and Jensen nods. He sits, looking at Jensen from underneath his fringe, which makes him look far younger than his years. If they were friends, Jensen would warn him to beware of looking so young in front of his men, but they’re not friends so he tamps down his instinct.

“Lord Jensen,” Jared says again, now fidgeting. Jensen is not inclined to be helpful, so he sits waiting.

Jared seems to finally screw up his courage. “I understand that I was… that I had drunk more than I should last night, and that we talked. So Kit tells me.”

He physically squirms again, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m not sure what I said to you. I’ve never been very good at holding my alcohol, and I think my nerves got the better of me.” He says this so confidingly that Jensen almost, almost finds it adorable, the Duke’s ever-changing eyes peering at him hopefully.

“So I’m not sure what I said. But what I wanted to say, was…”

He pauses again, and Jensen braces himself for another unpleasant, condescending proposition. That the Duke thinks that he should sleep with Jared because that’s what the wolves do, or because Jared wants to try something exotic, something inhuman.

“I know so little about the Otso, the least of everyone who Swears to me. I would like you to stay a little, so that I might learn more about Arbolene, and the Otso, so that we might better work together in the future.”

Jensen can’t help but stare as Jared completely subverts his expectations. This is what he’d been hoping for, after all; a Duke who was open to understanding the Otso and treating them like equals.

Jared seems to take his silence as displeasure.

“I’m truly sorry for whatever I might have said last night,” he continues earnestly, puppy dog look firmly back in place. “But I really mean it, I tried to learn, before you came, from the books in our library, but clearly they don’t tell the whole story, because, well,” Jared gestures for a moment at Jensen’s tunic, before carrying on, “I wasn’t prepared for your arrival, and I’m sorry for that, but I hope that we can learn more about each other, both as a people but just you and I as well, because we’re going to have to work together, and I would like to visit you someday, and-”

“Your Grace,” Jensen interjects firmly, using all the authority he can muster. It seems to work significantly better on Jared than it had on Chris. Thankfully, Jared pauses, and takes the deep breath he so clearly needed.

What the hell, Jensen thinks. Chris has insisted they stay for a couple of nights anyway, and Jensen’s own paws could do with some time to heal.

“I would be delighted to stay for a couple of nights so that we can talk about the Otso.”

Jared beams, but only for a moment. “Just a couple of nights?” he asks, and this time Jensen has to admit, he is utterly adorable. He hardens his heart.

“I must travel back to Arbolene soon, my people are preparing for winter without me.”

“Of course, I understand.” Jared looks disappointed. “Perhaps you could stay for four more nights?” he bargains. “Just until the memorial?”

Of course, Jensen had forgotten about the memorial to Duke Gerald. He’d never intended to stay that long, never truly imagining he’d be welcome. But Jared looks so hopeful.

“I will need to talk to Chris,” he says, deferring his answer, but Jared seems to take it as confirmation that Jensen will indeed stay, and Jensen is once again confronted with his wide, almost childlike smile.

“I’m so pleased.” Jared almost bounces in his chair. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting scheduled with Lord Omundson tonight, and with Lord Speight tomorrow, and Lord Cohen. But perhaps we could find some time in the afternoon to talk?”

“Of course, if you wish, Your Grace.”

“I do wish, Lord Jensen. Shall we say after lunch tomorrow?”

Plans made, Jared rushes off, no doubt busy with his other guests, and Jensen finds himself wondering quite what has just happened.

Jared is thrilled that he managed to salvage the situation with Lord Jensen. He hums to himself as he prepares for tonight’s feast, despite the fact that Jeffrey is in his room complaining about cost. Jared flits around the room, looking at all his new clothes and wondering what suits him best, what would be most attractive to- what would make him look most impressive to his Lords, as Kit watches with laughter.

Eventually, though, his uncle’s gloom starts to get to him.

“Uncle,” he says firmly. “You organised these events, before I had come home. You organised the feasts, and what would be served, and who would be invited to stay for the Memorial. So surely, any cost was well known to you at the time you organised them?” Jared tries to keep his tone judgement-free, but he really wants to shout at his uncle to get out and stop ruining his good mood.

Jeffrey gives him a sour look. “I did, Your Grace. I did not expect people to drink so much. Perhaps they were encouraged by their Duke last night.”

Kit hisses lightly in the corner as Jared flushes at the dig.

“Our people have often ended up on the floor with drink,” he points out, trying to keep his temper. “And I saw none of that last night. So I think we should count ourselves lucky. Now, Uncle, I need to visit the privy before the feast tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jeffrey departs in a huff, no doubt made worse by the sound of Kit’s ringing laughter once the door is closed.

Jared had specifically approved seating plans for tonight’s feast that mixed everyone up. He had ignored hierarchy and age, and seated people together who would benefit from getting to know each other (though he’d kept outright enemies away from each other: Lord Sheppard and Lord Pellegrino remain at opposite ends of the hall).

Jared had placed himself tonight next to Lord Cohen’s heir, Matt; a handsome boy of around his own age who Jared will have to work with for the rest of his life; and Lord Abel, ruler of a minor province at the opposite edge of Jared’s lands to the Otso. He wants to show that he is available to his lords no matter what their status. He’d wanted to sit next to Lady Tal, who had also recently become ruler of her lands following her father’s death, but Kim had warned it would be seen as a sign of intent; that he would be suggesting that a marriage was forthcoming.

Jared had spluttered at that, and then quietly admitted to Kim that their would be no union with a pretty girl for him.

“Well, _I_ know that,” Kim had said, exasperated, and Jared had wondered how, exactly, Kim knew. “But your lords don’t know yet, and you want to tell them that at a time of your own choosing.”

“It’s not like it’s important,” he’d said, exasperated. “Megan is my heir, and her children will rule Everglen after me. It’s not like I’m the only one left.”

“No,” Kim had agreed gently. “But you still want to make that choice yourself, Your Grace.” Jared had been unable to disagree, so he’d switched Lady Tal’s place on the table plan with Lord Abel, to prevent speculation.

It turns out to have been an excellent idea. Both Lord Abel and Matt Cohen are brilliant conversationalists, keeping him laughing all night. Jared still searches out Lord Jensen at intervals, where he is sat next to Lord Benedict, looking as stunning as ever in his tunic and nothing else; but he finds himself noting idly that Matt is very handsome, with his clear blue eyes and dark hair. Jared also notes that Matt is more than aware of his own beauty, trying to flirt with Jared at every opportunity; but Jared is just not interested.

Jared is careful to moderate his wine drinking tonight, and he can’t help but notice that as he looks for Lord Jensen in the crowd, he often finds the man looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

Jensen tosses and turns that night, finding it difficult to sleep. Chris is out again, and Jensen is ready to remind him in the morning that it was supposed to be two nights of solid sleep, not two nights with his mystery woman.

He’s grumpy the next day as a result, and takes himself on a run to curb his introspection (and to dodge a number of women who want to speak to him, all of whom are married). By the time he’s ready to meet Jared, he’s a little more settled.

The Duke turns up to their meeting wearing the most practical clothes Jensen had yet seen him in. He’s wearing leather leggings and a warm woolen tunic, topped with a leather jacket. The leggings highlight the length of his legs, and Jensen tries not to stare as he approaches.

“Lord Jensen,” Jared greets him. “I thought we might go for a walk, now that the weather has improved slightly? I think you will be more comfortable outside than in the castle?”

Jensen looks outside at the grey, angry clouds and reflects that at least it’s no longer pouring with rain. And then he realises what Jared has said; that Jared is trying to take his wishes into account.

“Yes, Your Grace, I do prefer being outdoors,” he confirms.

“Brilliant, I’ll show you my favourite hike, if that’s ok? It’s a bit long, but I think you’ll like the end of it.”

Jensen just goggles at him. He’d assumed Jared would be a typical city boy, uncomfortable outside and unused to physical hardship; not least because of the finery Jared has been wearing the past few days. He realises that he’s been judging Jared by his appearance, and what must be expected behaviour in front of his other lords; and feels guilty.

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve been looking for excuses to leave the castle.”

“Me too,” Jared confides, slanting him a grin that makes his dimples pop out. “Jeffrey has so many tasks for me to do that I can hardly move. But if we take this hike, he won’t be able to find me for at least four hours. It’ll be perfect!”

Jared looks just like a child sneaking out of school, and Jensen can’t help but laugh. “Come on then, let’s escape,” he says, and his chest feels warm when Jared laughs back.

Jensen is really good company. Jared keeps conversation light as they start their walk, despite his burning questions about the Otso. They find that they have lots in common, both enjoying their own company and being outdoors, as well as having a passion for music.

“I can’t play an instrument or sing though,” Jared says gloomily. “I just try to support others.”

“Nonsense,” Jensen says firmly. “Playing is just practice. You should make time for yourself to learn, it would be a good distraction for you over the coming months.”

Jared thinks that’s untrue, but he doesn’t want to argue. Instead, he says, “I’d love to hear you play sometime. One of your favourites.”

“I’m not good at playing in front of others.” The tips of Jensen’s ears have gone red, and Jared is entranced.

“Playing in front of others is just practice,” he repeats back to Jensen, and Jensen snorts. He looks for a moment like he’s going to punch Jared’s arm, a playful gesture that reminds Jared of his brother Jeff; but Jensen aborts the movement and Jared’s heart drops. Its another reminder of how different it is to be Duke.

“Come on,” he says, instead. “We’ve got a long way to go yet.”

Jared’s right, it's not a short or an easy walk. Conversation comes to a halt as they struggle up a sharp incline, little rocks falling past Jensen as they’re dislodged by Jared’s feet in front of him. Jensen can see sky a little way above him, dark grey clouds almost blending into the rock, and he hopes that it’s not going to rain; getting down this slope in the wet would be lethal. He forces himself to concentrate on the rock in front of him; looking up brings Jared’s ass directly into his eyeline and if he keeps staring, he’s going to fall.

When they get to the top, Jensen realises that it’s not really the top at all. But the next part of their hike is much easier, and it gives Jared some time to start asking questions.

“So, I wanted to ask you about your people,” Jared begins, chest still heaving from their climb.

“Sure.”

“I wanted to say first, I don’t ever mean to be rude. So if I get something wrong, just tell me.” Jared has actually stopped and turned around to look at Jensen, and he’s so earnest that Jensen can’t help but smile.

“I promise,” he says, smiling; wondering how much Jared can actually want to know.

Half an hour later, as Jared promises that they are nearing their destination, Jensen has come to the understanding that Jared’s curiosity is endless. They’ve covered the Otso’s education and health systems, how were biology differs to human (“Yes, Your Grace, I’m almost always warm. I don’t need to wear as much clothing as you,” Jensen had explained patiently), and how the Otso fit into the economy. Jared has questioned how they build their shelters, what they need to trade for, and what skills they have in the pack.

“And I understand that your inheritance systems works differently to ours?” Jared asks, as they push through a copse of trees.

“Well, we don’t really have an inheritance system as such,” Jensen begins, ducking under a branch. “We don’t really inherit. Most things, other than basic personal items, belong to the pack, so we don’t need to pass them on.”

Jared frowns. “No, I meant in terms of ruling. I’m Duke because my father was, whether I’m good at it or not. But it’s different for you?”

Jensen can hear the uncertainty in Jared’s voice as he talks about becoming Duke. He wants to reassure him that Jared will make an excellent leader, but he’s also wary of drawing too much attention to something that Jared might perceive as a weakness, so he files it away for later.

“Yes, Your Grace. We have an elected leader. Our Alpha.”

“Please stop calling me that,” Jared mutters, not for the first time.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jensen replies, just to be difficult. Jared scowls at him.

“So you all vote? Anyone can become leader?”

“All people of age can vote, any wolf over 16. And while yes, in theory, anyone can become Alpha, the likelihood is that the previous Alpha and the council will have guided the choices somewhat.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, unless the Alpha dies very suddenly, they usually know that they’re ill or aging and start to make arrangements. They usually have a better idea of anyone who is capable of taking on the role.”

Jared looks interested, so Jensen continues.

“They might name a successor in advance, name them outright and prepare them for the role. Or they might have a couple of people in mind and make sure that both are ready to step in, and let the Pack decide. Even where the Alpha has made a choice, though, the Pack still has to vote on it and they can still vote against that choice.”

“That’s amazing,” Jared says. “I think that’s what we used to do, centuries ago, and that’s where the Swearing comes from. But obviously we don’t any more. I think it's a much better way.”

Jensen is genuinely shocked. “You, the heir to Everglen, think it would be better if you weren’t actually heir to Everglen?” He’s never thought of such a thing; their pack history teaches them that all the Dukes of Everglen have been desperate to hold onto their power - often at the expense of the Otso.

Jared flushes. “Well, I just think… how can we possibly guarantee that my family will be the best choice to rule? We’ve had terrible Dukes. My great grandfather nearly ruined the Duchy with bad investments, and his father used to torture people for fun. Luckily, the Duke before then had left the Duchy in such good condition that they weren’t able to destroy it entirely, but I know it took my grandfather a long time to restore our name and finances.”

Jensen frowns. The Otso are unfortunately all too aware of Duke Alistair and his penchant for torture. He’d favoured torturing weres because of their increased tolerance and stamina, but Jared doesn’t seem to know that.

“Can I ask, what happened with you?” Jared seems unsure whether he should ask, and quickly follows up with, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It's fine,” Jensen says. “Our previous Alpha, Sam, passed away fairly quickly, but she still had time to make her wishes known.” His voice wavers slightly as he speaks, emotion almost overcoming him even after five years. “She suggested me, and the Otso agreed. So I became Alpha. I don’t like the title though; people just call me Jensen.”

“Is it not correct to call you Lord Jensen?” Jared looks worried.

“It’s not correct, but it’s not incorrect either. I would prefer plain Jensen though.”

“Well,” Jared says, cheeky smile in place, “You call me Jared, and I’ll call you Jensen.”

Jensen can’t help but be amused. “Very well, _Jared._ ”

He’s hit with that huge smile again.

“Ok, we’re almost there,” Jared says, changing the subject. “Another couple of minutes.”

Jared is so pleased that his idea has worked. He’d planned to meet with Jensen in his office, as he has with all his other Lords, all of them impressed and pleased at being invited into the Duke’s inner sanctum. But then Jared had thought about Lord Jensen, had considered what he knew of the Otso, and realised that that would be entirely the wrong approach.

Lord Jensen clearly loved to be outside, and was visibly resentful at having to stay in Everglen. Jared himself often felt the same way, so he’d thought about how he coped with the claustrophobia of Everglen castle, and it had hit him. He would take Jensen on his favourite hike.

Jensen looks tired, but he’s clearly pleased to be outdoors, and he’s really opened up to Jared. It’s given them the chance to talk with the guarantee of privacy, as well; which be can’t underestimated. He’s learnt so much about the Otso, and how they can work together without Jared barging in and putting his giant foot in his own mouth. And if he’s achieved all that, while having the chance to stare at Jensen and marvel at his strength and agility; well that’s no one’s business but Jared’s.

They’re almost at their destination, so Jared pulls back and gestures for Jensen to go first. He wants to watch the other man’s reaction.

Jensen pulls himself over the last ridge on the hill, muscles in his back tensing as he climbs. Jared has never seen anyone with such a beautiful back. He forces himself to concentrate on the natural beauty around him as he pulls himself up as well.

Jensen’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. His eyes go round and his mouth drops open a little (just enough to be enchanting, rather than gormless). He looks around with absolute awe at the scene in front of him, before turning back around to Jared, obviously thrilled.

“Jared, this is amazing,” he says, eyes shining.

“Like it?” Jared asks, as nonchalant as he can be.

“It’s beautiful,” Jensen breathes.

“It’s my favourite place. I used to come here whenever I needed to escape.”

“I’m not surprised.”

They stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the vista in front of them: a beautiful mountain lake, bright blue even in the dim light. Trees dip and swish on the water’s edge, and at their feet, a waterfall crashes down into the pool below. Jared knows from experience that all sorts of animals live here and even from this distance, he can see a deer drinking from the far shore.

“Come on,” Jared says, breaking the spell. “There’s a good place to sit down here.”

They climb down the side of the waterfall, pushing their way through the overgrown path Jared and Kit had cut in their teenage years. There’s a moment of scrambling and Jensen catches Jared’s arm as he slips, the contact burning onto Jared’s skin. They smile, more understanding of each other now.

About half way down, they find the spot Jared had made his own years ago. There’s a small opening in the rock, which extends back into a fairly big cave. Jared and Kit had covered the entrance with fronds and created a hideout; they’d dragged various things up the trail and made it more homely over time. Jared had bought tools one summer and created a bench seat and table, and they’d sometimes spend several nights up here at a time.

He’d been unsure of showing this very private spot to Jensen; he was happy for the other man to appreciate the beauty of the lake, but this is where he’s always come to think. He’d decided earlier that day to play it by ear and see how his relationship with Jensen developed; and now, he has absolutely no qualms about letting his new friend in on his secret.

“Here,” he says, pushing back the matted strands of greenery. “In here.”

Jensen looks utterly nonplussed, but he follows Jared anyway, and then chuckles when they get inside.

“This your secret hideaway?” There’s no derision in his laughter though, and Jared is happy to agree.

“Yup,” he confirms. He’s thrilled to find everything as he left it; the furniture pulled to the back to keep it protected from the elements and his firekit on a small natural shelf above even his tall head.

He quickly strikes a flame and lights the lantern they’d kept there. “Kit and I used to escape to here, sometimes,” he tells Jensen. “We’d come and camp up here, get away from being an Everglen.”

Jensen hums. “You make those?” he asks, gesturing towards the bench at the back, and Jared nods. He’s not sure but he thinks that there’s a little more respect in Jensen’s eyes now.

“Give me a hand?” he asks, and starts to drag the bench forward. Together, they push it through the green curtain and fit it into a niche in the rock outside: exactly where Jared had designed it for.

Once they’re both seated, Jared pulls a couple of bottles out of his bag. “We can get water from the lake,” he says, “But I brought us a couple of bottles of ale and some bread and cheese.”

Jensen takes one, and then gives him a sideways look, mouth quirked. Jared flushes. “I promise this isn’t enough to get me drunk,” he mumbles, embarrassed all over again, and Jensen’s laugh warms him even more.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, absorbing the view.

“So you and Kit are very close,” Jensen says, almost a question.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were tiny. He only became officially my servant because my parents couldn’t separate us.”

“Oh.”

Jensen’s tone is a little odd, not at all in keeping with fond childhood stories, and it takes a moment for Jared to work out why.

“He’s my best friend,” he says carefully. “Nothing more. Everyone always thinks we’re together but then Kit sleeps with their sister and they soon understand.”

Jensen snorts, and Jared’s sure it sounds a little relieved. “Sounds like Chris.”

Jared wonders whether Jensen’s discomfort is because the Otso don’t approve of same-sex relationships. They’re tolerated in the rest of the country, but not encouraged, particularly in the nobility, because they impact so much on inheritance laws. But maybe the Otso are less permissive?

“Jensen, can I ask another question?” he asks, hesitant.

“Jared, don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you possibly have more questions?”

Jared wonders if his face could get any redder. “My tutors always said I was an endless fountain of curiosity.” Jensen gestures for him to continue, so he does. “I was just wondering, how do you see relationships in Arbolene? Is marriage the same as here?” It’s not quite what he wants to know, but he hopes it will get him there.

“No, not at all. We find your customs quite strange,” Jensen replies, winking to let Jared know he wasn’t being offensive. “We choose our own partner, and we stay with them as long as it works. But if it stops working, we move on and find someone else.”

“Oh,” is all Jared can say to that. For him, marriage will be final.

“Yes, very different to here. And we don’t marry people off for gain either.”

Jared had, up until Jeff’s death, assumed that this would be his fate, and he hadn’t looked forward to it at all. He thoroughly approves of the way the Otso see relationships.

“Oh. And… for you, are relationships always been a man and a woman?”

“Of course not,” Jensen says. “People love who they love. You can’t control that. Relationships aren’t always even between just two people.”

That makes Jared’s mind reel a little, so he pushes it to one side. “So marriage is possible between two men, as it is here?”

Jensen gives him a shrewd look. “Yes, although we don’t call it marriage. And I understand that we are a lot more comfortable with it than your people. It truly doesn’t matter to us.”

He smiles at Jared, and they lapse into silence again. The wind whistles softly through the trees, much less intense in this protected bowl of the mountains than it had been outside. Jared sips his beer, deliberately slowly, and ponders as he watches two birds fly together.

“People say it doesn’t matter here,” he says. “But it does. We take inheritance far too seriously for it to be any other way.” Jensen just lets the silence between them lie, and Jared feels more comfortable by the minute. There are relatively few people who know of his preference for men; Kit of course, Elena and Kim, and he’d always suspected his brother knew. But it’s something he’s kept quiet: not because he’s ashamed, but because he knows it will have consequences. But he will need to tell his Lords eventually, and perhaps Jensen is the right place to start.

It takes him a while to get enough moisture into his mouth to speak. “I’m that way,” he says slowly. “I’ve never found women very interesting. Not like that.” He braces himself for an explosion.

“Me too,” Jensen says, casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Women are wonderful. As friends.” Jared’s heart starts beating again, and he takes a big gulp of his beer.

“Exactly,” he says, so relieved that Jensen understands. “My best friend in the capital, Elena, she was amazing. Beautiful, and smart, and funny. And just my friend.”

Jensen smiles at him. “I’m guessing it’s not common knowledge?” he asks gently. Jared shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

He bumps his shoulder against Jared’s; and Jared hands over the second bottle of beer.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s not until the next day that Jensen wonders if he was manipulated. He’d had such a good time with Jared, exploring a part of Everglen he’d never seen, culminating in the astoundingly beautiful lake. He’d completely changed his opinion of Jared as a result of their hike; now he understands the young man better and can see that his personality actually isn’t all that different from many of Jensen’s friends in the Otso.

So it takes him a while to work his way around to the thought that maybe Jared’s big secret might not be so secret after all. What, he thinks, if Jared had shared that exact secret with all his men in confidence, to make each of them think they were important? It would be a low tactic, Jensen thinks, but not beyond the behaviour of some past Dukes.

He tries to harden his heart, to look at it rationally and protect himself, but he just can’t bring himself to believe it. If the Duke could fake such sincerity, such worry about acceptance, then Jensen would never have a hope of reading him and he might as well give up now.

He spends the next day socialising with his peers, refreshed from his hike. Some of them are nice (Lord Benedict radiates warmth), some are amusing (his hour with Lord Speight has Jensen laughing harder than he has in years) and some are not to be trusted (Jensen just has a really bad feeling about Lord Sheppard). He spends an hour with Lord Cohen and his son, Matt, and is completely unable to concentrate; all he can think of is the way Jared had flirted with Matt at dinner previously, the laughter they’d shared and the way they’d seemed to get on like a house on fire.

Jensen can’t help but wonder if Jared is thinking about who he wants to spend his life with; his advisors will no doubt be pressuring him to start the search, and Matt Cohen will surely be towards the top of the list once Jared’s preference for men becomes public knowledge.

So it’s safe to say that his time with the Cohens is among his least useful meetings.

It's completely overshadowed though by his meeting with Lord Omundson. Despite his distaste for the man, Jensen had grit his teeth and requested a meeting; Timothy is Jared’s closest neighbour and his uncle’s oldest friend, and will surely play a key role in Jared’s Duchy. The man is a slimeball; Jensen leaves the meeting sure that he’s been asked to collude in some kind of conspiracy, but unable to put his finger on exactly how. Whatever else he might say about Lord Omundson, he’s intensely clever. Jensen makes a mental note to talk to Jared about him.

It's late evening when Jared finds him. He’s back to his normal self today, looking very dapper in his well-fitting, elegant clothes; but his hair is ruffled, as if he’s been running his fingers through it all day.

“Want to go for a walk?” Jared asks, eyes a little wild. Jensen nods and they are outside within minutes.

“Thanks,” Jared says, as he and Jensen escape beyond the castle walls. “Today has been just… too much.”

“Anything I can help with?” Jensen finds himself asking.

Jared bumps his shoulder gratefully. “No, thanks. It’s all just these tiny little tasks that according to my uncle, only I can complete; stuff that’s been waiting until I got back. Lots of signing papers, lots of tiny boundary disputes, lots of sheep thefts. I’m pretty sure it’s stuff that Kim could deal with but my uncle is insisting, and until I’ve had time to get to grips with everything, I don’t want to argue with him.”

Jensen frowns. “Sounds utterly boring. Surely there are more important tasks for your first few days?”

“You would think,” Jared agrees. “But every time I try to get near them, more stolen sheep appear. Or it was a pig this morning. And a horse that had been put to stud without the owner’s permission.”

Jensen shakes his head, trying to think of how best to distract Jared.

“Do you have any more questions for me?” he asks. He’s sure that Jared, the endless well of curiousity, will have thought of more since yesterday.

“No. Well.”

There’s a pause.

“Well what?”

“I don’t know if it’s rude.” Jared’s earnest face is back in place, and as usual, Jensen is powerless to resist.

“If it’s rude, I’ll tell you. And I won’t be offended - I understand that you’re trying to be tactful.”

“Alright.” Jared chews on his lip for a moment, and Jensen notes that they’re chapped, as if Jared isn’t taking care of himself. “It’s just, when you arrived, you were in your wolf form. And you were beautiful, but I didn’t get a chance to see you properly, before you changed back. And…”

Jared tails off, and Jensen sucks in a breath. While his people are very free with their wolf forms in Arbolene, and around each other, traditionally they’ve been very reluctant to change near humans. There are plenty of times where it hasn’t ended well.

But it’s just Jared here with him, and over the last couple of days he’s come to utterly trust the young man standing before him, waiting anxiously to see if he’d made a faux pas.

“It’s not rude, exactly,” he begins, ready to explain to Jared; but then pauses as he hears voices through the trees.

Jared shifts his weight from foot to foot as he waits for Jensen to answer. He’s so afraid he’s made a mistake, that he’s asked for something utterly unforgivable that will make Jensen hate him. While that would be enormously politically damaging, Jared is long past the point where that’s his primary concern; he really, really enjoys Jensen’s company and would be devastated to lose it.

Jensen looks pensive, not angry, Jared reassures himself as he waits. Surely, having turned up that first day in his wolf form, Jared asking can’t be so terrible?

He’s just about to prompt Jensen when he hears voices, and they both instinctively quieten. The first voice is clearly Lord Pellegrino; his distinctive, nasal drawl is unmistakeable.

“Why would I want the young Duke gone?” he asks, voice displaying only curiosity. “He seems a bright boy to me.”

Both Jensen and Jared freeze, staring at each other in shock. Jensen is the first to recover; pressing a finger to his lips to warn Jared to stay silent, he guides them both into a small space under a branch where they are more hidden. They miss the response as they move, but they’re much better placed to hear the next part of the conversation.

“Well, the Duke has promised me that my lands will prosper, that he’ll look into our trade agreement with the capital. That’s hardly an incentive for me to want him replaced, is it?”

Jared trembles; he knows exactly what ‘replaced’ means in this context.

“Well, if you are willing to support us, then we’ll obviously be looking to do the same thing. It’s a sound plan. But we’ll also be looking to make sure that Lady Megan is suitably married, to someone trustworthy. I believe you are looking for a wife?”

Jared can barely control his fury. The second voice is now easily recognisable as Lord Omundson, and the thought of him trying to marry off Jared’s little sister to someone as repellent as Lord Pellegrino makes Jared’s blood boil. It’s only Jensen’s arm, firmly wrapped across Jared’s chest, that stops Jared from bursting out of his hiding place and putting an end to the conversation immediately and in a very bloody and violent manner.

But Jensen’s weight against his back helps to ground him, and he can feel Jensen’s cheek pressed against his own. “Let them carry on,” Jensen breathes into his ear, so quiet that Jared half-thinks he’s imagined it. “Find out as much as we can.”

It’s sound advice, and Jared consciously takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

“I am, but that one might be too smart for her own good. You’d need to sweeten the pot.”

“Well, Lord Sheppard is highly unlikely to join us. He is loyal, despite his numerous other faults. So I suspect that his land will soon need a new Lord?”

“Ah, that’s more like it. Keep the wife, give her to someone else, and give me that bastard’s lands. They’re mine by rights anyway.” Pellegrino sounds utterly delighted at this offer, and Jared has already started to plan how he is going to punish the man, not only for plotting against Jared himself but for being so dismissive of his sister.

“Well of course they’re yours, the Sheppards stole them from your family,” Omundson says, in an oily, conciliatory tone. They’re getting closer and closer to where Jared and Jensen are hiding, and Jared starts to wonder whether they should force a confrontation here and now.

“No,” Jensen breathes again, seeming to read his mind. “Later.” There’s no time for any more sophisticated discussion, as the two rebels come into view. Jared just hopes that their hiding place is good enough.

Time trickles past as Pellegrino and Omundson walk through the small clearing, exchanging small talk now that the deal has been made. Finally they are past and out of sight, and Jared lets himself sag against Jensen. He can feel the minute tremors running across Jensen’s body now, and he knows that his friend hadn’t been as unaffected by the situation as he’d seemed.

“Fuck,” he says quietly.


	8. Chapter 8

He can’t quite believe what’s just happened. He’s shaking, just a little, but not as badly as Jared is; and helping Jared enables him to focus.

“Come on,” he says. “Back to the castle.” He shuffles them out of the forest, but before they go inside he stops.

“Who can you trust? Who are you utterly, completely sure that you trust?”

Jared blinks at him.

“Kit.”

“Yes, of course.” Jensen replies. “But of your Lords? Your advisors? Is there anyone you trust implicitly?” _Don’t say Jeffrey,_ he thinks to himself. He’s fairly sure that Jared’s uncle will be caught up in this, given his close relationship with Omundson.

“Kim,” Jared says. “Kim half-raised me. Megan, of course. But there’s no one else, really; I’ve been away so long.”

Jensen sighs, but agrees. Jared has been away for three years; people can change in that time.

“Oh, and Lord Sheppard I suppose,” Jared adds, and Jensen wants to bang his head against the castle wall. His instincts had told him not to trust Sheppard, but the enmity between him and Pellegrino runs so deep that they would never plot together.

“Lord Sheppard,” he acknowledges. “Of fucking course. Right, we need to get them together in your chambers tonight, and plan. Can you arrange that? And is there any way that people can spy on your room?”

Jared scrunches up his face. “Yes, probably. The old Dukes had secret passages built in for their mistresses. We’ll be much safer in Kim’s room.”

“Ok, we’ll meet there. I’m going to get Chris - Kit can bring everyone else?” Jared nods.

“Right. We should meet in an hour. Don’t panic.”

Jared looks on the verge of hysteria, but he visibly pulls himself together. “I won’t,” he says. “We’ll sort this out. I’ve been expecting something like this from the beginning.”

Jensen is so proud he feels like he could burst.

It takes him a while, longer than he’d like, to locate Chris; he eventually finds him in the rooms of one Lady Ruth, ruler of a small pocket of land near the capital. Neither Chris nor his companion look best pleased at being disturbed (Jensen is willing to admit that it was a highly inopportune moment), but the severity of the situation must show on Jensen’s face because Chris doesn’t hesitate to leave (although he does bitch about it all the way to Kim’s rooms).

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” he asks.

“In a minute,” Jensen snaps, not for the first time.

They’re the last to arrive, and Jensen feels intensely guilty at the look of relief on Jared’s face when they push through the door. The group is placed awkwardly around the room, Megan and Kim leaning into each other while Jared paces. Kit is perched in the window seat while Lord Sheppard stands stiffly by the far window, apart from everyone else.

“You’re here,” Jared says softly, but all Jensen hears is _you came back._

“I’m here.” They stare at each other for a moment, before Kim breaks the silence.

“Is someone finally going to tell me what’s going on?” At first glance, she looks utterly indignant; but Jensen can see that underneath she’s afraid.

“I’ve been asking the same question,” Chris says, irritable.

Jensen is about to answer when Jared stands up and takes the lead.

“Its recently come to my attention,” he begins, “That there is a plot underway to replace me as Duke of Everglen. I assume that as part of this plan, me being alive would be considered inconvenient.”

There’s stunned silence, before Megan throws herself at Jared, clinging to him. He hugs her back absently, looking at the rest of the room.

“Who, JT?” Kit asks, the usually affable young man looking unusually angry.

Kim jumps in before Jared can respond. “Pellegrino?” she asks.

“Yes,” Jared says. “But he’s not the instigator. We’re not sure who the ringleader is, but Omundson is one of the main players.”

Kim sits down, skin ashen. “Omundson?” she asks, and Jensen realises that they must have worked closely together for many years.

“I’m afraid so.”

“We, JT?” Megan asks. “Who is we?”

“Jensen and I heard Omundson offering Pellegrino terms while we were out walking in the woods. Needless to say, Pellegrino accepted.”

“Well of course he bloody did, that untrustworthy bastard,” Lord Sheppard interjects, speaking for the first time; but Jensen’s attention is on Megan, who is giving him a shrewd, assessing look. She smiles at him suddenly, and Jensen flushes.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Chris asks, straight to the point as always.

“Well, we have a few options,” Jared starts.

“Arrest Omundson,” Kim says promptly. “Try him. Follow the rule of law.” She must be able to see the fury on Kit’s face, Jensen thinks, because she’s clearly worried that someone is going to take matters into their own hands.

“Arrest Pellegrino too,” Lord Sheppard says. “His lands should be forfeit.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jensen can’t help but smirk at how predictable the man is.

“No,” Megan says softly. “We need to find out who is in charge. There must be another way.”

“We’ll beat it out of them,” Sheppard suggests, and Megan recoils.

“There is another way. We let the plot play out,” Jared says firmly.

The silence this time is deafening, before everyone starts to speak at once.

“No, JT, it's too dangerous.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Absolutely not, Your Grace.”

“That’s a hell of a risky plan.”

“I still say we just beat it out of them.”

Jensen is the only one who remains silent, and he locks eyes with Jared. He desperately doesn’t want Jared to take this risk, but at the same time, if he were in Jared’s position, this is the choice he’d make.

Everyone is waiting on Jared’s response.

“I know you’ll all protect me,” he says, but his words are meant for Jensen.

Jared would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. But he’s more scared of living the next few years of his life knowing that there are other people out there, maybe even living in Everglen Castle with him, who want him dead, and having no idea who they are. He can’t bear the thought of a life of suspicion and mistrust. So he hopes that this way he will get to the end of it sooner rather than later, and hopefully survive to tell the story.

Despite the fact that his group of supporters is small, he knows he won’t be unprotected. Kit is his shadow, able to go everywhere with him and watch his every move. Megan is terrifyingly smart; now that she’s on the case, Jared knows nothing will remain secret for long. Kim knows his Lords better than perhaps anyone; she worked for his father for decades, and now that she knows what to look for, she’ll be alert to anyone acting differently. Jared isn’t ready to trust Sheppard with anything other than burning desire to see Pellegrino torn down, but that’s more than enough to ensure his loyalty in this; and he hasn’t spent much time with Chris, but he wouldn’t challenge the were for anything.

And then there’s Jensen. Jared has never felt so safe around anyone in his life; and despite their short friendship, he trusts Jensen to be there for him, to protect him if need be. Jensen is a formidable enemy by anyone’s standards; strong and agile, there are few in Everglen who could best him in a fight; and that’s before his ability to change into an enormous wolf with even more gigantic teeth is taken into account.

So, Jared reassures himself, he’ll be perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about.

The next day is filled with preparations for the memorial to Jared’s father. All the worry of becoming Duke has meant that Jared has had almost no time to grieve; although he and his father were never particularly close, he worries that grief will hit him during the ceremony, when he finally has time to acknowledge that his father, who he respected enormously, is never coming back.

That evening, Jared takes some time to himself to try to work through his feelings, finally giving in to the need to reorganise his new chambers and make them his own. Kit sits with him throughout, silent but present if Jared needs him, and he’s filled with love for his best friend. He finds Chris outside his door when Kit goes to get some food; and he’s immeasurably grateful for such visible proof of Jensen’s support.

Jared feels more rested, somehow, once the rooms are arranged to his liking. His father’s things are neatly packed in chests, ready to be thrown away, or given to those in need, or divided between him and Megan. There wasn’t much of personal value, though; like Jared, Gerald had seen little value in material things.

“I’ll be glad when tomorrow is over and everyone’s gone,” Jared says when he’s eventually ready to speak again.

“Even Lord Jensen?” Kit asks, sly.

Jared’s stomach contracts at the thought. Perhaps Jensen could be persuaded to stay a little longer.


	9. Chapter 9

The weather has improved enormously, the sun even occasionally visible behind light clouds and the puddles starting to evaporate, so Julian has decreed that they will have the memorial in the forest glade that should have hosted the Swearing.

Jensen is up at dawn, and drags Chris out of bed to scope out the area. Chris grumbles, but it’s for form’s sake and he’s just as invested in checking for potential hiding places as Jensen is.

“So I take it we won’t be heading back to Arbolene for a while?” Chris asks as they’re looking.

“What do you mean?” Jensen’s too distracted to read much into the question.

“The kid. You’re not going to want to leave him until everything’s settled, right?”

“You mean until we’ve found the rebels?”

Chris sighs, loud and dramatic. “Until things are settled between the two of you.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” That’s the truth; Jensen can’t allow himself to think about things like that.

“Sure, Alpha.” Chris’ voice drips with sarcasm and Jensen has to battle hard to resist the urge to throw something at him. They’ve got more important things to do at the moment than get into a fight.

Jared looks a little less tense at breakfast in the great hall, Jensen thinks. The tightness around his eyes has smoothed out a little and he’s moving more freely, his shoulders less rigid. He’s dressed in sombre clothes today; dark leggings and a well-fitting shirt that’s clearly been freshly ironed. The main table is less raucous this morning, Jensen notes; even Lord Speight is laughing less than usual.

Megan, on the other hand, looks terrified; and she’s so pale Jensen suspects she hasn’t slept. He wonders if it is grief for her father or worry for her brother; either way, his heart brims with sympathy for her.

Lady Ruth joins them for breakfast, seemingly not holding a grudge from the interruption the day before. She and Chris aren’t compatible in the long-term, Jensen thinks, looking at her finery; but they certainly seem to be enjoying themselves at the moment.

Despite the distraction, Chris remains as alert as Jensen feels. There’s no obvious threat in the room; no one is acting differently, Pellegrino is holding court with the same minor Lords he’s been socialising with all week and Omundson is sat next to Jeffrey as always. But someone in this room wants Jared dead.

It’s going to be a long day.

Jeffrey had taken care of the arrangements, so Jared has little idea what to expect today. The memorial will not follow the same format as a traditional burial in Everglen, which focuses on the actual interment process; and Jared wonders whether Jeffrey has just made something up that he deems appropriate.

He’d tried to get involved with the arrangements earlier in the week, with little success.

“Let me help,” he’d insisted.

“Everything is under control, Your Grace,” Jeffrey had replied. “This is the least I can do to mourn my brother.” Jeffrey’s voice had wobbled. “Besides, he would want me to help you with this burden.”

Jared had found it hard to argue with his uncle’s emotion; the only way he could think of would have been to argue that he, as Gerald’s son, had an even greater right to be involved than his brother, but it had seemed petty. So he’d sat silently.

“And there is of course the matter of the horse thefts in Monrear to be dealt with,” Jeffrey had finished, sliding the papers in front of Jared; and Jared had forgotten all about the memorial organisation as he dealt with his frustration at the never-ending stream of banal tasks his uncle had saved for him.

So Jared finds himself walking towards the grove, Megan on his arm, with little knowledge of how he will spend the next hour.

“Do you know anything about this?” he asks his sister, who shakes her head. “Wonderful.”

The grove is crowded when they arrive; the majority of the lords had stayed on, and they’ve been joined by the castle staff, as well as a large number of people from the town outside the castle. Jared and Megan walk to the front of the crowd, people pulling back to make space for them.

Jeffrey is waiting for them, Julian by his side to officiate. A quick scan of the crowd shows Jensen to his left, Chris to his right. Kit is of course behind him as usual, and despite everything Jared can’t help but be amused when he sees that Sheppard is standing just to the side of Pellegrino - probably the closest they’ve been to each other in the past ten years. No one is close to Omundson - but Jared doesn’t think the dapper, self-centered man is the type to want to get blood on his own hands. Jared is as safe as he’s going to be, and besides, it’s unlikely that anyone will attack him in front of so many witnesses.

Its immediately clear the the memorial is going to be as dull and lengthy as the Swearing. Julian does like a good, detailed ceremony, Jared remembers. Julian stands in the centre of the grove and calls upon the gods to hear them as they celebrate the life of Gerald, Duke of Everglen; the fact that the people of Everglen are overwhelmingly secular doesn’t seem to bother him.

“I now call upon his friends, family and subjects to share their memories of Duke Gerald, that we might remember him with joy, not mourn him in sorrow.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as everyone looks at their neighbour. Jared realises that this is his cue. He feels sweat prickle on his forehead and in the dip of his neck at the thought of giving such as speech with no warning.

“My father was a great man, a great father, and a great ruler,” he begins, and Megan squeezes his arm in reassurance. “He always strove to do what was right, to treat all with fairness and justice, and to ensure that his lands prospered.” Comforted by the murmured approvals of the crowd, Jared continues extolling his father’s virtues and glossing over faults until he runs out of words. Thankfully, the strain is enough to distance him from any emotion he might have felt, and once he feels that he’s said enough, he steps back.

He catches Jensen’s eye and his friend smiles approvingly. Megan’s sobbing softly next to him and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, shaking his head when Julian seems to suggest she should speak next.

Jeffrey is of course the next to step forward. “I have stood alongside my half-brother all my life,” he begins, “helping him to rule his lands.”

Its immediately obvious that Jeffrey has prepared his remarks, and Jared seethes internally. He drifts off as his uncle speaks, watching the reactions of the crowd rather than listening to Jeffrey’s speech, and planning how to rebuke his uncle for not warning him.

He’s distracted by the sound of a branch cracking behind him, and then there’s a dull thud that makes Jared whirl around. He sees Kit on the floor, blood pouring from his side and instinctively, he pushes Megan to the side, out of harm’s way.

That action probably saves him; a knife thunks into the ground where he’d been stood a second before, quivering in the earth.

There’s instant pandemonium. A figure hurtles towards him, and Jared reaches for the knife he’d hidden in his boot, ready to protect himself. The man is tripped, though, as Kit sticks his leg out, groaning in pain; and Jared loses sight of his assailant as the crowd jostles him, milling about and trying to escape.

He can see Chris hurrying Megan away, his sister tucked safely under Chris’ arm. Frantically, he pushes towards Kit, who is still on the ground; the sheer amount of blood pooling underneath his friend making him careless of his own safety. When he reaches Kit, he sees that there’s a big, open wound in his side, and Jared knows that it’s beyond his abilities to heal. Stripping off his shirt, he presses the material against the injury to try and stem the blood, but it soaks through immediately.

“There you are, Your Grace,” a rough voice says above him, and Jared looks up in shock. A short, ugly man lifts his arm, ready to bring his knife down towards Jared’s neck, and he freezes in shock, torn between protecting himself and protecting Kit. As the man’s arm drops, Jared realises that he’s left it too late, and the fleeting thought crosses his mind that at least he will die beside his best friend.

The man is bowled over, suddenly, by a huge wolf slamming into his side; the two roll across the now almost empty glade, the man’s arm stabbing frantically at the wolf. Jared watches in horror as the wolf closes his teeth around the man’s neck and shakes violently, but the spurt of blood he expects never comes and the wolf uses his strength to pick the man up and slam his body down, knocking him out.

Jared lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and presses his shaking hands harder against Kit’s side. But it’s increasingly clear that his friend is not going to make it; and Jared realises that he’s crying as tears drop onto Kit’s face.

“Fuck, Kit, hold on. You’ll be ok,” he says, repeating the same thing over and over again, but Kit is unable to respond. He feels someone settle next to him, and looks up briefly to see Kim, who peels his hands back.

“Oh, shit,” she says, face ashen. Guards are pouring into the clearing now, and Kim sends one of them for the castle’s doctor, but Jared knows it’s too late.

“Here, let me,” Kim says, placing her hands over Kit’s wound and freeing Jared to move. The shirt is completely soaked through, blood dripping onto the ground, but Jared chooses not to focus on that.

“Kit,” he says, softly, brushing his hands against his friends face. Kit’s still breathing, just barely, but weaker every minute. Jared strokes his face again.

“Kit,” he says insistently, and his friend’s eyes flicker open. Kit smiles at him, a soft, sweet smile; and then he takes one final breath before his eyes close and his chest stills.

Kim lets out a choked off little gasp, and Jared can feel a wail building inside him. He wants to scream and scream and scream at the world that has let Kit die in his place, and he’s on the verge of doing so when he hears Chris swear, loud and desperate.

Jerking around, he realises that Jensen hasn’t come to find him. The reason why is immediately clear: the big grey wolf is lying, bleeding, on top of the would-be assassin; a dozen wounds seeping blood across his body.

Jared flings himself across the clearing, falling to his knees again beside Jensen. He can’t bear the thought of someone else dying because of him. Jensen’s still breathing, but its laboured and he’s bleeding all over.

Chris shakes Jensen roughly, and furious, Jared’s about to stop him, when he realises what Chris is saying.

“Wake up, Jen, you gotta wake up. You have to change back, you’ll heal better in your human form. We can treat you better in your human form. Jen, you gotta change back.”

Chris shakes him again and then slaps the wolf’s snout, none too gently, and Jensen’s eyes open slowly. He looks dazed, pupils wide; but Chris repeats himself. “I know it’s hard, Jen, I know you’re tired, and in pain, but you gotta change back, please.”

Jared would swear that the wolf rolled his eyes and there’s a definite growl; but then the air shimmers in a way Jared recognises from Jensen’s arrival in Everglen. The wolf disappears and Jensen’s beautiful human body is lying in front of Jared; deep cuts littered across his bare skin.


	10. Chapter 10

Jensen blinks awake into a world of aches and pains. Bright light burns his eyes as he forces them open, motivated by a sense of panic he can’t quite place.

Jared, he realises. The panic is connected to Jared. Something is wrong with Jared.

He tries to force himself upright but his aching body won’t co-operate, and pain shoots down his side. He groans, slamming his head back in frustration.

“I wouldn’t do that, idiot. You’ll hurt yourself more.”

It takes him a moment to place Chris’ voice, but then he swivels his head to look at his friend. Chris is sitting by his side, and Jensen belatedly realises that he’s tucked securely into a bed, in a warm, comforting room.

Despite the harsh words, Chris looks ridiculously happy, a beaming smile on his face.

“Finally fucking awake,” he continues. “You’ve been sleeping long enough.”

Jensen tries to speak, wanting to know what the fuck is going on, but his mouth is so dry he can’t get any words out.

“Drink?” Chris asks, unbelievably casual, and Jensen glares at him. “Here.” Chris helps him to drink a little water, waiting for Jensen to wet his mouth and swallow before letting him drink more. Jensen finds that he’s extremely thirsty, and finishes two glasses of water before attempting to speak again.

“What,” he says slowly, voice croaking, “The fuck is going on?” He’s calm enough now to realise that Chris being here means that the danger is over and Jared is safe; but he still wants answers.

Chris takes just a beat too long to answer. “Is Jared ok?” Jensen demands.

“Your boy is fine.” Chris’ face drops. “Well, physically at least.”

Jensen’s still too confused to go into the implications of that. “Jared’s safe?”

“He’s safe.”

“And where the fuck am I?”

“Castle infirmary, so the doctor can keep a close eye on you. You got pretty beat up.”

“You need to fill me in,” Jensen says. Chris looks like he’s about to refuse, so Jensen draws on some of his supposed authority over his friend. “Now.”

To his utter shock, Chris starts talking.

Jared leaves the tower, mind numb. Kim walks down the stairs behind him, but she too is quiet, lost in thought.

They’ve been interviewing Omundson again. In the chaos after the attack, he’d nearly managed to slip out of the castle and escape, but Kim’s quick thinking had the castle placed on lockdown and he was accosted as he tried to sneak through the gates. He’d been taken into custody alongside Pellegrino, who Sheppard had taken great delight in knocking out cold as soon as the pandemonium began. The attempted assassin had also been caught, but he’d turned out to be nothing more than a mercenary, looking to make a quick profit. He hadn’t even been able to identify who had hired him.

Pellegrino remained stubbornly silent, even now; but Omundson had talked pretty much immediately, spilling the names of his co-conspirators as soon as torture was threatened (and Jared will be forever grateful that he hadn’t had to find out if he was willing to follow through on those threats). Omundson had named Pellegrino, of course, and a couple of minor Lords, but the biggest name he’d dropped had been Jared’s uncle.

Omundson alleged that Jeffrey had organised the whole plot, was planning to become Duke himself, and unfortunately Jared is sure that he’s telling the truth. He’s known all along that the person who would most benefit from his death would be Jeffrey.

Jeffrey had fled by the time they’d talked to Omundson, and despite Jared and Kim pressing him today, Omundson is able to give no real indication of where he might have gone. The man is such a coward that Jared knows he’d have talked if he knew.

The thought that Jeffrey is out there, roaming free and possibly plotting more violence, should leave Jared unsettled and even fearful; but he’s having trouble feeling anything at all. Nothing has seemed right to him in the two days since Kit’s death; everything is muted and dull, and he can’t muster the energy he needs to fulfil the majority of his duties. Luckily, Megan and Kim have been there to step in; comforting those Lords who were present at the Memorial and gently sending them on their way. The exodus in the last couple of days has been astonishing and now the castle echoes with silence.

“Your Grace.” A servant approaches, and Jared forces himself to pay attention. “The Captain wishes to speak to you.”

Wishing that he could go to bed and sleep for days, Jared follows the man to the guardhouse, Kim by his side. Victor, the Captain of Everglen’s guards, is waiting for him.

Victor is not one to beat around the bush. “We have been searching the clearing again, Your Grace, and we found this.”

He holds out a medium-sized silver throwing dagger, and Jared shivers with nausea: this is the weapon that killed Kit. He doesn’t take it from Victor.

“No, look,” Victor says insistently, and Jared is about to snap at him when something catches his eye. Peering more closely, he can see something etched into the handle. Snatching the dagger out of Victor’s hands, he examines it and runs his fingertips over the carving.

“This is the crest of Arbolene,” he says slowly. Kim sucks in a shocked breath.

“Yes, so I thought,” Victor confirms.

Jared raises pained eyes to look at the Captain. “Are you suggesting that Lord Jensen had something to do with this?” His voice has dropped low and dangerous, and he sees Victor’s eyes widen.

“No, Your Grace,” Victor assures him, confidently. “I’m suggesting that your uncle was intending to try and blame Lord Jensen. The wolves would be seen as an easy target.”

That had been Jared’s immediate thought as well, but to have Victor see it too is mollifying. But then anger surges through Jared, the first thing he’s really felt these past two days. He’s been putting off seeing Jensen, unable to really process the guilt that Jensen is hurt because of him; but this is too much.

“I need to visit Jensen,” he says, and leaves abruptly.

Jared speeds through the castle, long legs eating up the way to the infirmary; finally feeling something. Fury at his uncle bubbles at the surface of his mind, but underneath is a churning nervousness about how Jensen will react to seeing him again, now that he’d almost died because of Jared. Now that someone - Kit - has died because of Jared.

He tries to reassure himself on his route that he just needs to warn Jensen that this had been part of the plot, in case more evidence comes to light. And as Duke, he needs to check on one of his lords. There’s nothing more to his visit than that.

He pauses outside the infirmary door, a thick wooden structure designed to deaden all sound and create a peaceful environment for invalids. So of course there’s no sound from inside, no way of knowing whether Jensen is alone or not. He steels himself and knocks sharply at the door, and then when there’s no response, pushes it open.

Jensen is lying in a big bed in the corner of the infirmary, sheets rumpled and pushed down to his waist. _Jensen is always warm_ , Jared thinks inanely. He’s sleeping, pretty eyelashes fanned over freckled cheeks.

Chris sits beside him, keeping a close watch on his friend while pretending to flick through a book. He looks up when Jared enters and rolls his eyes.

“About fucking time,” he says, and Jared knows his father would have reprimanded Chris for speaking to him so freely. Jared can think of nothing worse.

“Sorry,” he says instead, and Chris’ eyes soften.

“No worries, kid. Been a busy couple of days, I’m sure.” His lips turn up slightly in a not-quite smile, which Jared returns. The moment stretches out between them, and when it ends, Jared feels like they’ve come to some sort of unspoken understanding.

“Right, I’ll leave you two to it.” As he reaches the door, he turns back and leers. “Lady Ruth is still here, right?”

Jared has no idea, and it must show on his face.

“Guess I’ll go find out then,” Chris says, and shuts the door behind him. He’s not quiet about it, and the slam makes Jensen stir.

Jared is by his side in a second. Those luscious eyelashes flutter, and then Jensen is blinking awake, eyes adorably confused.

“Chris?” he asks, voice rasping.

“No, Lord Jensen, it’s Jared.” He decides to revert to formality again, just in case Jensen no longer wants to be friends.

“Jay,” Jensen breathes. “You’re safe.”

“Very safe,” Jared confirms. _Thanks to you,_ he thinks; but he’ll wait to talk about that when Jensen is more awake.

“And Megan?”

“Safe too, thanks to Chris. He got her away immediately.” Jared has yet to decide how best to reward Chris for taking such good care of his little sister; ideally, he’d like Jensen’s input on what would be appropriate.

Jensen is struggling to sit up, so Jared reaches forward, hands on Jensen’s bare skin, to help him. He shivers a little, touching Jensen like this, but Jensen seems completely unaffected, simply closing his eyes in pain.

He props Jensen up with all the pillows he can find, and then looks at him fully for the first time. Cuts are littered across Jensen’s upper body, but they’re not the angry red he was expecting; instead, they’re the muted pink of healed scars.

“You look...well,” he says. His confusion must show in his voice, because Jensen chuckles.

“Wolf physiology,” Jensen says. “We heal much quicker than humans. But it’s exhausting, so I’m still struggling a bit.”

_More than a bit,_ Jared thinks, but bites his tongue. He has no right to tell Jensen how he feels.

Silence settles over them. It’s not tense, not exactly, but it’s certainly not comfortable. There are too many things unsaid, too much to talk about, for them to relax. On top of that is Jared’s never-ending awareness of how much he’s come to care about Jensen and how important Jensen has become in his life.

He decides, after several minutes of silence, to tell Jensen about the dagger. “I don’t know how much Chris has filled you in about what happened, but it turns out it was my uncle all along,” Jared begins.

“I’m stunned,” Jensen says, voice flat.

“You knew?” Jared asks, shocked.

“Suspected. _Strongly_ suspected. There was no one else who made sense.”

“No.” Deep down, Jared had known it too. “Anyway. He fled. But Victor, the Captain of our guards, found something interesting today. A dagger with your crest on it.” His voice wobbles and he’s completely unable to tell Jensen exactly which dagger had been found. Jensen clearly knows anyway, because the colour drains from his face. Before his friend can say anything, Jared hurries on. “Clearly, Jeffrey was planning to pin everything on you.”

The tension in Jensen’s body visibly disappears. “Of course he was,” Jensen says, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “He hated us.”

Jared can only nod. Jeffrey hadn’t kept his bigoted opinions well hidden.

“You ruined his plan when you saved me,” he says, voice wavering. “I don’t know how to say thank you enough for that.”

Jensen flushes and looks down, picking at the edge of the sheet. “No need for thanks,” he mutters.

Silence settles over them again, the only sound a bird cooing on the window ledge.

“Jared,” Jensen says slowly. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry about Kit.” His voice rings with sincerity, and Jared feels his chest tighten. “He was a good man and a truly great friend to you. I’m sorry.”

It’s that last sorry that breaks Jared, crushing the dam he’s held inside him for the past two days. A sob breaks out of his chest, and he presses his fist to his eyes, body shaking. He tries to hold it back, because now, in front of Jensen, is not the time.

Jensen leans forward, pressing his hand to Jared’s knee. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, and it’s too much, Jared can’t hold it in any more. A huge sob wracks his body, and tears pour from his eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Jensen says, alarmed; and then strong arms are pulling him onto the bed, tucking him into Jensen’s warm body.

Jared’s been in his room now for at least fifteen minutes, and Jensen can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop raking his eyes across Jared’s body and detailing all the ways in which Jared is alive and breathing.

Jensen’s brain is still a little fuzzy, so he’s sure that’s why he’s having trouble fixing his attention on Jared’s words, rather than his lips, or the steady in-out of his chest, or the way his long, elegant fingers talk just as much as his words do. Jared is alive, his tired brain repeats.

Jensen does manage to focus himself briefly when Jared reveals the full extent of Jeffrey’s plot. He’s barely surprised; if the man could plot to kill someone as truly good as Jared, then trying to pin his crimes onto someone else is hardly surprising.

Jensen knows he has to say something about Kit; he’d seen Jared’s friend bleeding out in the clearing and Chris had confirmed that he’d been too badly injured to survive. Jared must be hurting so much inside, Jensen thinks; he’s visibly lost weight in the past two days, his cheekbones sharper and his skin waxy. His eyes look bruised and dull, and his beautiful hair is unbrushed.

He knows Jared must be grieving, but he’s not expecting for his friend to break in front of his eyes. He watches as Jared tries and fails to hold himself together, as the tears pour out of him.

It’s inappropriate to touch his Duke without invitation, but he can’t help himself. He pulls Jared onto the bed, and Jared settles beside him like he was made to fit into the curves of Jensen’s body. Jensen pets him gently as he cries, finally getting his hands into the soft hair he’s wanted to touch for days.

It takes Jared a long time to cry himself out, clearly heartsick from the loss of his best friend just a couple of weeks after his father. His sobs eventually settle, and Jared buries his head in Jensen’s neck. He’s probably embarrassed, Jensen thinks, although there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Feel better?” he asks softly, when Jared is almost completely still. Jared nods against his shoulder and loosens his grip on Jensen, pulling away. Sitting up, he hangs his head so that his hair covers his eyes, and his shoulders are hunched up around his ears

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice clogged and rough.

“Don’t be,” Jensen replies. Before he’s realised what he’s doing, he cups Jared’s cheek, tilting his head up so that he can see Jared’s eyes.

Jared flushes a pretty pink, the tears tracks on his face standing out, and Jensen brushes his thumb across one tear. “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he says, his own voice brimming with emotion. His heart is pounding, waiting for Jared to pull away, but Jared just closes his eyes and pushes his face into Jensen’s hand.

Time hangs, for a moment, before Jensen takes the plunge and pulls Jared towards him. Gently, he presses a kiss just below Jared’s eye, where a tear is welling; his lips soak up the taste of salt and he kisses there again, eager for the taste of Jared’s skin.

Jared sighs, body melting as tension flows out of it. Jensen kisses his other eye, and then presses little kisses across his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Jared’s almost boneless against him, mouth parted, and Jensen pulls back to look at him. Jared’s eyes open slowly, and his pupils are blown wide; he’s the most beautiful thing Jensen’s ever seen. Jensen’s heart explodes in his chest, his breath coming short as he takes one last chance and brushes his mouth over Jared’s.

Instinctively, Jensen moves his hand from Jared’s face into his hair, and as Jared kisses him back tentatively, he moves so he’s closer to Jared.

Jared makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, and pushes forwards. The kiss deepens, Jared’s hands settling on Jensen’s shoulders, and Jensen’s worldview narrows (permanently, he suspects) to Jared.

They kiss for long moments, Jared’s mouth echoing his every move; but eventually Jensen pulls back. He’s reluctant to end things, but his brain is spinning from more than just desire; tiredness is pulling at his eyes and he knows he needs more rest. More importantly, this is one of the biggest moments of his life; he doesn’t want to rush it or take the risk that its only happening because Jared is emotionally vulnerable. He doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with rejection if things went any further.

Jared makes that little noise again, but Jensen hardens his heart.

“You’re upset, sweetheart, and I’m exhausted. Let’s pick this up again later?”

Jared pouts, but as his eyes come back into focus he seems to register the obvious tiredness written across Jensen’s face, the way he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Jared takes his turn to brush his fingers under Jensen’s eyes.

“You do look tired,” Jared agrees, as he helps Jensen to settle back into the bed. The excess pillows fly across the room, and Jared tucks the sheets up around his shoulders. “I’ll stay a while, though?” Jared asks, uncertain.

Jensen smiles up at him. “Stay as long as you want.” _Stay forever,_ he means.


	11. Chapter 11

Jared sneaks out of the infirmary once he’s sure that Jensen’s deeply asleep. He doesn’t want to - there’s nothing he wants more than to stay beside Jensen, maybe even climb into the bed with him - but there are matters that needed his attention.

The next few days are a blur of frantic activity; riders are coming and going from the castle, searching for Jeffrey, and Jared needs to set up a trial for treason - a process much more complex than Everglen’s ordinary judicial procedure. Julian is irreplaceable, his knowledge of arcane legal procedures constantly saving time that would otherwise have been spent in the library. Megan is also indispensable; she’s much better at dealing with people than he is, her endless patience and ability to say the right thing at the right time smoothing everything along.

Each day he finds time to go and see Jensen, spending at least an hour with him, more if Jared can spare it. They get to know each other better, and every day Jared comes to rely on Jensen a little more. Jensen is wise, his experience of leadership meaning that he can help Jared sort out some of the more thorny problems he’s encountering as he fully takes over the Duchy; he’s also incredibly funny, and they spend most of their time together laughing. Jared can’t quite say the words to himself yet, but he knows what his feelings are; so he can only hope that Jensen feels the same way.

Its three full days before the castle doctor is happy to discharge Jensen from the infirmary. Even the pinkness of his scars are gone; there are now barely-visible silver lines on his skin that Jared can only see because he knows to look. He still sees them every time, though; his guilt that Jensen was hurt because of him means that he’ll always see them.

He desperately wants to ask Jensen to stay on in Everglen; but he knows Jensen has been here far longer than he’d intended already, and that he has responsibilities to his people. Jensen is still tired; it’ll be at least a few more days until he’s able to travel back to Arbolene. Jared comforts himself with that thought as he lies alone in bed every night, without Kit a few metres away for the first time in his life.

There have been no more kisses since that first day, and as Jared lies in bed, he torments himself wondering if he’ll ever get to kiss Jensen again. Maybe Jensen just felt sorry for him, he thinks; after all, Jared had been crying his eyes out like a child. Maybe Jensen had just been trying to comfort him. Maybe Jensen had realised that it was Jared’s first kiss, that Jared had no idea what he was doing, and maybe Jensen hadn’t liked that. Jensen is perfect; beautiful, intelligent, strong and funny, and Jared doesn’t see why Jensen would be interested in him at all. So he tries to resign himself to the idea that he’ll never kiss Jensen again.

It hurts.

Jensen is beyond pleased to finally leave the infirmary. The boredom had been intense, the only brightness in his days the short hour Jared could visit. Chris had come to see him, of course, but their friendship has always been based on doing, rather than talking, and Chris had soon reverted to waxing lyrical about Lady Ruth in an attempt to fill the silence. Jensen is sure she’s a very worthy, interesting woman; but he would have liked to discover that for himself rather than being told at length.

He stumbles out of the infirmary, legs wobbly from almost a week of inactivity. He’d refused to wait for Chris, or even worse, Jared, to come and help him; instead he was determined to make his way back to his room on his own.

As he walks through the hallways, he remembers Kit leading him through the castle on his first day, and his heart aches. He hadn’t had much time to get to know Kit, but what he’d seen of the man had shown him someone funny and irreverent, and fiercely loyal; and he’s deeply angry that Jeffrey’s plot had cost such a promising young man his life. That’s before he gets to the impact his death has had on Jared; Jensen’s been able to coax laughter out of Jared most days, but he’ll be recovering from his friend’s death for years.

As he walks through the castle, Jensen realises that he’s made a mistake in not waiting for help. He’s sweating and clammy by the time he’s able to collapse onto his bed, legs shaking, but at least he made it. Lying on his back, he stares at the ceiling and lets his mind wander over his current favourite subject: Jared.

Jensen is in deep, he knows that. He’d fought it at first, and even now, he thinks it’s ridiculous that he’s fallen so in love so fast, but he attributes it to how wonderful Jared is. He doesn’t think that Jared feels the same way; after Jared had cried in his arms, and they’d kissed, they seem to have gone back to being just friends.

Jensen reminds himself that Jared is Duke of Everglen, one of the most important men in the country; and that he probably intends to marry for gain, or for dynastic reasons, rather than pledge himself to the leader of the most despised group in the country. And Jared’s not the kind of man to go for casual relationships; whoever wins Jared will win his loyalty. Jensen remembers the way that Jared had flirted with Matt Cohen; seething, he thinks how much more suitable a match that would be.

He will leave for Arbolene the minute he’s physically well enough, he decides.

Jensen is trying to fit everything into his pack the next afternoon when his door opens. He’s acquired a lot of new things since he arrived in Everglen and he’d like to take them home with him, but his bag is just not cooperating. “For fucks sake,” he says, resisting the urge to stamp his foot.

“What did the bag do to you?” Jared asks, and Jensen jumps.

“Jared,” he says, unable to stop his eyes from raking up and down his friend’s body. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Jared laughs, a clear, merry sound that pleases Jensen. He’s worked hard over the last few days to evoke that sound.

But then Jared frowns. “Are you leaving?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” Jensen answers, reluctant to go into detail.

“Oh.” Jared’s whole face shuts down; all traces of laughter disappear, replaced by hurt. It’s quickly masked by an odd, stiff formality, but Jensen sees it and wonders.

“I wish you well on your journey, then, Lord Jensen,” Jared says, sounding like the Duke Jensen had first met. “I know you must have urgent matters to attend to back in Arbolene; I appreciate you staying as long as you have.”

Jared sounds exactly as he does when he talks to his other Lords (except Matt Cohen, the gleeful little voice in Jensen’s head insists), and absolutely nothing like the happy, friendly boy Jensen has come to know.

“Thank you,” Jensen replies. He’s unsure what to say next. He doesn’t want to part on bad terms with Jared, but he desperately wants to protect himself.

“I hope you will visit Arbolene in the future,” he finds himself saying.

Jared softens a little. “I’d like that,” he says, with a shy little smile. “I’d love to see a way of living that’s more natural and informal.”

“I’d love to show you.”

They’ve moved a little closer to each other without Jensen noticing; he’s not sure who has actually moved, but Jared is within touching distance now.

There’s an infinite pause, and then Jared steps back.

“I’ll leave you to prepare for your journey,” he says, and before Jensen can say anything, he’s gone.

Jensen is leaving.

Jared thought he’d prepared himself for this, but clearly he was wrong, because the pain he’s feeling now is unlike anything he’s experienced before. It’s different to the pain of losing Kit; this feels like outright, deliberate rejection. It’s shameful and embarrassing. He feels like he’s made a fool of himself for even thinking that Jensen could be interested in him.

Jared hurries to his chamber, sure that he’ll lose his grip before he gets there and someone will see Everglen’s Duke crying in the hallways. He just makes it in time; slamming the door behind him, he flings himself onto his bed as yet again, he’s unable to control his sobbing.

Jensen is leaving, and Jared doesn’t think he can bear it.

Jensen has finally managed to wrestle his pack into submission when Chris saunters into the room. He looks utterly pleased with himself and Jensen can smell the faint perfume he’s come to associate with Lady Ruth. Unfortunately, Jensen doesn’t have the patience this evening to cater to Chris’ good mood.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he says abruptly. “Make sure you’re packed and ready to go after breakfast.”

Chris gives him a long, assessing look.

“Does the kid know about this?” he asks.

“Duke Jared is aware, yes.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says, before turning and storming out of the room.

Jensen has decided they’ll ride back to Arbolene. It’ll be easier on him and Chris; they’ll be less exhausted when they arrive and more able to throw themselves into preparations for winter. It has nothing to do with the fact that Jensen is still feeling a little weak.

Jim, the Stable Master, was kind enough to loan them some horses. “Not a problem,” he’d said. “You saved JT’s life, from what I heard; it’s least we can do. Besides, I get the impression you won’t be gone for long.” He’d winked at Jensen, who’d flushed at the thought that he and Jared were the subject of castle gossip.

After a quick, functional breakfast taken early enough that he knows Jared won’t be up, Jensen is kicking his heels in the courtyard, waiting for Chris, who is nowhere to be seen. Chris hadn’t come back to their room last night (he hadn’t been back overnight since Jensen left the infirmary) and he hadn’t shown up for breakfast.

Jensen is becoming more and more impatient. Not only do they have a long journey that he wants to complete as quickly as possible; he wants to avoid awkward goodbyes with Jared. It’s tearing at his heart, but he’d decided that their conversation yesterday was sufficient; there’s no need to put himself through further pain. The later they leave, the more likely Jared is to find him.

Another five minutes pass and he kicks the fence in frustration. “Where the fuck are you, Chris,” he growls, and debates leaving without his friend. Chris could catch up. Frustrated, he reminds himself of all the times Chris has been there for him: when Chris had defended him against bullies as a child; Chris’ ready acceptance when Jensen had first stuttered out that he preferred boys; and Chris’ steady presence at his side as Jensen had stood for Alpha. Grumbling, he settles against a hay bale to wait for his friend.

A good half hour passes, and there’s no sign of Chris. Jensen is fuming, brain beating fast to the thought of all the ways he’s going to make Chris pay for this. Another fifteen minutes, and Jensen gives up and sets off to find his friend.

The sun is finally shining brightly, and Jared pulls his covers up over his head. He can’t bring himself to get out of bed for breakfast. He’s terrified that he’ll find Jensen there, and have to say goodbye; and terrified that Jensen won’t be there because he’s already gone. He lies in his bed, shivering with sobs every few minutes; both because Jensen is leaving but also because in the past Kit would have been here to jolly him out of bed and convince him to eat, and now he’s not.

His door slams open, and Jared jumps, but just buries himself further under the blankets. Maybe someone has taken it upon themselves to assign him a new servant, he thinks; he certainly can’t bear to do it.

“Wakey wake, JT,” Megan says, annoyingly cheery. “Get up, or I’ll have to pull the covers off you.”

Jared ignores her. Hopefully she’ll go away.

“Jared,” Megan’s voice gets sterner. “Get up right this minute, or I will pull the covers off. And I’m worried that you’re naked under there and that is something no little sister should have to see.”

Jared pulls another pillow over his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it.” Jared can’t quite place this voice, and chooses to continue his tactic of avoidance. “You wait outside, just in case he is naked. Won’t be anything new to me and I doubt his scrawny ass is all that impressive.”

Jared wonders if he should be a little more concerned about this voice. But ultimately, he’s Duke; there are very few people who would dare to touch him without his express permission. He vaguely registers the sound of the door opening and shutting, before he’s suddenly very, very cold.

“Rise and shine, kid,” and Jared is finally able to place the voice as Chris.

“Fuck you,” he says, debating whether he has a hope in hell of winning in a fight to get his covers back. Probably not, he concludes.

“Jared,” Chris says, perching on the edge of the bed and looking him right in the eye. “You’re not seriously going to let Jensen leave, are you? I know he’s a stubborn fucking idiot, but I had higher hopes of you.”

Jared is not quite sure how to process that.

“What do you mean, let him leave?” he asks. “Why would I stop him?”

Chris buries his face in his hands; Jared thinks sourly that he’s being overly dramatic..

“You both fucking deserve each other,” he says, sound incredibly put-upon. “You should stop him because you like him, and he likes you, and you’re both too stupid to see it.” Chris has slowed his voice down as if he’s talking to a small child, and Jared would punch him if he wasn’t so interested in what he was saying.

“He’ll leave now, thinking he’s doing the best thing for you, out of some stupid notion of nobility or whatever, and you’ll both be fucking miserable for a really long time.”

Jared can’t quite get any words out, so he just stares at Chris, who sighs, loudly. “Megan!” he calls, “he’s got clothes on. Come help me out.”

Jared’s little sister reappears. “Oh good,” she says. “I didn’t want that trauma. Is he still being stupid?”

Jared bristles a little at that.

“Yes. They’re both so fucking stupid.” Chris stands up and walks away.

“Right.” Jared recognises that as Megan’s _I-mean-business_ tone, and flashes back unpleasantly to multiple occasions in his childhood when that tone had meant nothing but bad things for him and Kit.

“Jared. His Grace, Duke of fucking Everglen. You are going to get your ass out of that bed right now, have a quick wash, because frankly it’s needed, and then you are going to hurry downstairs and stop Jensen from leaving this morning.” Megan pauses. “I don’t want or need to know how you’re going to persuade him,” she looks a little nauseous at the thought. “But you are going to persuade him. And you,” she rounds on Chris, who looks more than a little intimidated, “are going to make yourself scarce until this is sorted.”

“Yes, Megan,” Jared says.

“Yes, Megan,” Chris echoes.

Jared’s still trying to process the fact that Jensen might actually want to stay; he thinks it’s incredibly unlikely. But no one ignores Megan when she uses that voice, so everything is suddenly a mad scramble as he jumps out of bed and heads towards the wash basin. Chris insists on staying in the room, apparently worried that Jared might try to evade his orders; but now that a tiny seed of hope has been placed in his heart, Jared can’t let it go.

He fusses over what to wear, and how to make his hair look less wild until Chris loses his patience.

“Otso don’t care about that shit,” he says, irritated. “And Jen even less. Get a fucking move on or he’ll go, even without me.” He practically shoves Jared out of the door, where Megan is waiting.

“He’s with the horses,” Megan says, and sends Jared on his way.

Jensen is not waiting with the horses.

“He stomped off in a huff about ten minutes ago,” Jim tells him. “You better go and set things right.”

Jared stares; he’s just about come to terms, in the past few minutes, with the fact that Megan and Chris might have seen that there was a little more to his relationship with Jensen than friendship. But Jim? How on earth does Jim know, Jared thinks, slightly hysterical.

“Its written all over your faces whenever you’re near each other. Neither of you should ever take up gambling for a living,” Jim says, without being asked.

_For fucks sake,_ Jared thinks, and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, boy. You might be the Duke but that doesn’t mean you can disrespect me.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, eyes down. “Did you see where Jensen went?”

“Towards the castle.”

Jared spends an increasingly frantic fifteen minutes looking for Jensen. _What if he’s decided to leave anyway?_ He thinks. _What if he’s just changed and decided to run home?_

Now that he’s got the idea of telling Jensen about his feelings into his head, he can’t let it go. If there’s even a tiny smidgen of hope that Jensen feels the same way, he’s got to try.


	12. Chapter 12

He can’t find Chris fucking anywhere. His fury is increasing every minute; they might not have talked about it but Chris knows full well why Jensen is so desperate to leave Everglen.

He’s not in Lady Ruth’s room, who was decidedly not pleased at being woken up. “At my age, a lady needs her beauty sleep,” she informs Jensen sternly, and he backs out with sincere apologies and murmured compliments.

Chris isn’t in the great hall either, or our in the practice yards. Jensen checks in with Victor, in case Chris wanted to pick up some additional weapons for their trip, but the Captain hasn’t seen him.

_For fucks sake, Chris,_ he thinks; if he weren’t still a little shaky, he’d change to his wolf form now and run home and leave Chris to follow on his own. But, he thinks, changing to his wolf form will help to calm his anxiety for a few minutes at least. He heads out of the castle towards the forest, making sure to walk in the opposite direction to the clearing where Kit had died, wanting to get further away from the castle before he changed.

He’s walking down a wide, slightly overgrown path when he hears footsteps pounding behind him.

“Jensen!”

It’s Jared, he realises. Jared’s rushing to catch up with him, and there’s absolutely no way to avoid this conversation.

“Jensen, stop,” Jared calls, breathless, and Jensen can’t help but turn around. Jared rushes towards him, hair bouncing and long legs eating up the distance.

“Your Grace,” he says, thinking back to how formal Jared had been the day before.

“I thought we agreed on Jared?” Jared looks at him with that earnest, puppy-dog look that Jensen has yet to resist.

“Jared, I’m just trying to find Chris and then we’ll be leaving.” Just saying the words hurts Jensen; and he closes his eyes to avoid looking at Jared’s face.

“Chris sent me to find you. And Megan. Turns out they make a terrifying team.” Jared’s voice trails off, leaving them staring at each other. Jared seems to want to say something; he keeps opening his mouth and then closing it again, and he’s wringing his hands and shifting from foot to foot.

“Oh, I give up,” Jared mutters, and then lunges forwards. His hands frame Jensen’s face before Jared’s mouth crashes onto his in a sloppy, messy kiss.

Jensen’s brain narrows to the feeling of Jared’s lips against his, the sounds of the forest around him drowned out by Jared’s hitching breaths. Elation shoots through him as he realises that Jared wants this, maybe as much as he does; that he doesn’t have to leave Jared anymore.

Jensen takes control of this kiss, lining up their mouths better and slowing things down until it becomes deeper, more intense. Jensen notices again that Jared’s only following what he’s doing; his tongue is echoing Jensen’s and he’s keeping his hands neatly on Jensen’s shoulders. He pulls back.

“Jared,” he says slowly. “You’ve done this before, right?”

Jared’s already flushed, but the colour deepens to an almost painful red.

“Of course this isn’t my first kiss, Jensen,” he says, laughing awkwardly.

“You’ve kissed someone other than me?”

Jared drops his head so that his hair falls in front of his eyes, refusing to look at Jensen. Jensen’s mind blanks as heat shoots through him; Jensen gets to have all of Jared’s firsts.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tangling his hand in Jared’s hair and pulling Jared into another addictive kiss. He steps forwards, pushing until Jared stumbles back against a tree, and he keeps pushing until their bodies are flush together.

“You can move your hands, you know,” he says, teasing Jared, who immediately takes the opportunity to stroke his hands across Jensen’s bare torso. Jensen suddenly, desperately wants to touch Jared’s skin; he tangles his hands in the bottom of Jared’s shirt and pulls it up. “This ok?” he thinks to check before the shirt goes over Jared’s head, and Jared’s frantic nod is soon hidden under the fabric as Jensen pulls it up and over.

The feeling of all Jared’s bare skin beneath him is literally life changing. Jared is soft and smooth, but more muscled than his lithe frame would suggest; someday soon Jensen is going to get his mouth onto every single bit of muscle definition. But now is not the time for that.

Jared seems equally entranced by Jensen’s body; he’s running his hands over Jensen’s skin, fingers trembling.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you came through the castle gate,” he confides, laughing breathlessly. “You were so beautiful, I could hardly get my words out.”

Jensen rests his head against Jared’s forehead for a second, pausing. “I just thought you were a dick.” They both laugh this time, breath mingling from being so close. Jensen presses a little kiss to Jared’s nose.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, eyes intent on Jared’s.

“Anything,” is Jared’s dreamy response, and Jensen has to close his eyes briefly at the flash of heat that evokes.

“Don’t say things like that, sweetheart,” he warns. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t care,” Jared insists. “I trust you.”

There’s a brief moment where they both gaze at each other, aware that Jared is talking about more than just sex, more than just today. Jensen kisses him fiercely one last time, before dropping to his knees.

“Oh fuck,” Jared says, his head dropping back against the tree. He’s pliant as Jensen works the buttons on his leggings free, eyes huge as he watches Jensen’s hands work. Jensen’s clumsier than normal with expectation, but he finally gets the buttons undone and pulls out Jared’s cock. It’s as big as he expected, and Jared’s very definitely interested in what Jensen’s doing. His cock jerks as Jensen touches it, a bit of pre-come seeping out, and Jensen’s mouth waters. He’s always loved doing this, loved the sense of control over his partner’s pleasure.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, and Jared shivers. With one last look up to check that Jared’s ok, he lowers his mouth.

Jared yells as Jensen’s mouth closes over his cock, pleasure racing through his veins. He’d thought the kissing had been good, and Jensen’s hands on his chest; but this is something else. He can’t concentrate for how good it feels; the warmth and the suction combining to make him lose all sense of time and place. He’s vaguely aware that he’s making sounds; he has no idea what they are but Jensen hasn’t stopped, so they can’t be that bad.

His hands drop instinctively to Jensen’s head but there’s not enough hair there to grip; instead, he twists one hand back into the small branches of the tree, pulling against it as he tries to stop his hips from following Jensen’s mouth. He clearly doesn’t succeed because suddenly Jensen’s strong hands are on his hips, forcing him back, and somehow that’s even hotter.

This doesn’t feel anything like when he touches himself, but he’s just aware enough to know that things are going to end very quickly.

“Jensen,” he gasps, trying to give a warning, but he makes the mistake of looking down. The sight of Jensen’s plush lips spread around his cock, the redness of exertion spread across Jensen’s cheeks and the way Jensen’s pupils have dilated with desire is too much for him; he comes with a shout, spilling into Jensen’s mouth and then across his lips.

Jensen pulls back, licking around his mouth, and Jared feels like he’s going to die from how beautiful he is. He never knew anything could feel like this, and he’s intensely grateful that Chris and Megan had forced him to take this chance.

“We’ll have to find a way to thank them,” he says, barely aware that he’s speaking.

“What?” Jensen questions. “Thank who?”

But he seems to lose interest in the answer fairly quickly. He stands up and presses himself back against Jared, rubbing their noses together. “Can I kiss you?”

“Always,” Jared says, brain still not properly connected to his mouth, and Jensen laughs before kissing him softly

Jared almost loses himself in the kiss again, pleasure still tingling through his body; but he realises that under his tunic, Jensen is hard against his thigh.

“Can I…” he asks, then tails off. He has no idea what he could possibly offer Jensen; he’s too inexperienced.

Jensen noses along his ear, and then nips at the lobe, and Jared shudders. “Let’s go back to the castle. I’ve got so much more to show you.”

Jared can only nod with frantic agreement. He almost dies of embarrassment a second later when he tries to head off for the castle with his leggings still around his thighs and trips; tumbling forwards into Jensen’s arms. Jensen laughs at him, but it’s soft and affectionate and Jared can’t bring himself to mind.

Chris is leaning against the stable door when Jensen stumbles back into the castle courtyard, arm wrapped securely around Jared’s waist. He leers at them, and Jensen gives him the finger; but he can’t help grinning as well.

“Are we staying for another few days?” Chris asks.

Jared answers before Jensen can say anything.

“He’s not allowed to leave any time soon.”

Jensen snorts. Looking around, he sees that the courtyard is empty apart from Chris, so he pulls Jared in for another kiss.

“Ok,” Chris says, sounding disgusted. “I’m going to find Ruth.”

Jensen knows that there are issues to resolve around how long he can stay in Everglen; how he can lead his people and still be near Jared. But he’s not going to think about them today. Right now, Jared is warm against his side, a giggling mess with wild hair and flushed cheeks, and he’s got better things to think about.

Three days later, Jensen stands by Jared’s side as Omundson, Pellegrino and their co-conspirators are declared guilty of treason. Omundson trembles, Pellegrino sneers, and Lord Sheppard whoops loudly in a way that Jared finds incredibly distasteful.

Nothing has been said publicly about his relationship with Jensen, but those of his Lords who had made the journey back to be part of the jury, Lord Cohen, Lady Ellen and Lord Speight among them, clearly understand where the balance of power has shifted.

He wraps his arm around Megan as the rebels are lead away, Jensen’s shoulder pressing into his other side. Kim is deep in conversation with Julian and Jared shivers, knowing that they are discussing the execution. Everglen rarely enacts capital punishments, but murder and treason leave them with no other option. The only benefit that Jared can see is that the whole experience has shown his Lords that Jared is not afraid to act swiftly and make hard decisions.

“Come on,” he says, tugging Megan out of the great hall, knowing that Jensen will follow. As soon as they’re out of public view, Megan tugs away.

“I’d like to go to my room, I think,” she says slowly. “I need some time alone.”

Jared kisses her forehead. “Of course.” With Jeffrey still on the run, he knows that Megan won’t be truly alone; Kim will have placed guards outside her room to keep her safe. There are guards outside his own room at night too, even though he’s reassured Kim that with a giant wolf in the room, there’s really no need.

He and Jensen continue walking slowly towards Jared’s chambers. Sometimes, they don’t stop talking when they’re together; eager to share every moment and experience in each other’s lives. At other times, like now, the silence between them is deep and comfortable, no words needed.

When they reach his room, Jared sinks into the big, comfortable chair by the window, worn out from the strain of the day. Jensen sits next to him, and within seconds they’re curled around each other.

Jared will have to get up soon; he needs to dine with his men, show his gratitude to those who came back (and to those who were loyal). But for now he luxuriates in the feeling of Jensen’s arms around him and the understanding that has grown between them in these past few days. They have a lot to talk about, a lot of questions to answer - not least, how he will rule Everglen while Jensen rules Arbolene. But for now, it’s enough that Jensen is here with him and that they’re together; the rest can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [Tumblr](https://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


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